


World's End

by Angelic_Ascent



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, M/M, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Rating May Change, Sleepovers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-11-08 09:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11078736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelic_Ascent/pseuds/Angelic_Ascent
Summary: March 19th. Akira Kurusu's last day in Yongen-Jaya. He makes it a point to see all his friends.He meets Lavenza, and has a few things to ask her -- and then he finds a strange new door in the Velvet Room.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY GORO! i'm glad i could finish the first part of this in time!  
> thank you mikky, my lovely wife, for the inspiration and help,  
> and thank you robin for the interest and support! you both made me so much more motivated!

Despite his long stay, there were only a few things Akira Kurusu thought about during his time in juvenile hall.

He thought of his friends. Naturally, as he had done this for their sakes. Not that he held this in any sort of bitterness -- he had chosen this, of his own will. He wondered how they were spending their winter break; he wondered how they had spent New Year’s. 

It was his friends that occupied most of his thoughts.

Of course, among his friends was Goro Akechi.

Goro Akechi, who perhaps it was presumptuous of Akira to refer to as a friend. Goro Akechi, who couldn’t spend his winter break doing anything. Because he hadn’t been saved. The one person Akira couldn’t save.

The person who probably needed it most.

Akira’s confinement was solitary. It was not often he saw other people. Hours stretched into days which blended into the weeks. He wondered if this was how Akechi had felt. Was every day the same to him? Lost in his resentment, did he truly care for nothing besides his revenge?

Akira would never get the chance to ask.

It had been over a month, now, since Akechi had died. 

Died.

It was a thought that Akira’s whole body seemed to revolt against, insides cold as they turned and twisted.

The reality of this seemed so foreign -- so wrong. Excuses would flood his mind. He hadn’t seen Akechi’s body. Futaba had said she couldn’t feel him anymore, but they hadn’t felt him before that. What even happened to someone who died in the Metaverse?

Maybe he should have gone back. Maybe he should have waited. Maybe if he had reached out to Akechi just a little more --

\-- It was useless to think about.

He still saw Akechi, though -- and his other friends -- but mostly Akechi -- in his dreams.

Akechi, sitting quietly at Leblanc long after he’d finished his drink.

Akechi, at Akira’s side in the Metaverse, the only one who could truly seem to keep up with him.

Akechi, standing between them and his cognitive self, before the shutter closed between them.

There were some days in juvenile hall where Akira didn’t touch his food. 

He lived only for the sake of his friends -- and for getting out and one day seeing them. Living just for that purpose, all else -- not that there was much else -- seemed so insignificant. Unnoticeable. The taste of his food. The weather outside his small window. 

In time, his confines didn’t seem all so bad.

After all, what was he going to do after he was finally able to leave?

It was hard to remember his life before he came to Yongen-Jaya. Before he became a Phantom Thief.

What was he even living for, back then?

What was he going to live for now?

…His friends, of course. That was why he was here.

He would be with his friends as they went on with their lives. As Ann became a better model. As Yusuke continued his pursuit of art. As Makoto went on to become a police commissioner. As Haru started her own café…

What would Akira be doing?

What did he even want to do?

When he had these thoughts, his dreams were often of the Velvet Room. A place he would never return to. His journey was finished -- his role as a Trickster had been fulfilled.

Yet still Akira found himself wishing to see that blue door. When he asked himself why, he couldn’t answer. It wasn’t to see either of its residents -- but it was to see something. He needed to go in -- it called to him. He dreamt of walking up to that door, opening it, and --

He woke up before he knew what was inside.

He spent time thinking too, of course, of the Thieves’ various escapades into the Metaverse.

In that world -- as the Phantom Thief Joker -- things came naturally to him. It was what he felt like he was meant to do. And it was a place he could be free.

He wondered, as images of Akechi keeping up right at his side flew through his mind, if he felt the same way.

Another thing he would never get to ask.

When the cold air of the outside hit him for the first time in months, it froze Akira to the bone.

* * *

On March 19th, his last full day in Yongen-Jaya, he decides to go and say his farewells.

To everyone he had spent his time with, he parts them with a smile. People he would miss, and people who would miss him in turn.

He wonders if Akechi had anyone like that.

He doubts it.

He bites his tongue as he starts to make his way down Central Street.

It had been a month or so since he’d been freed, but it felt like only days. Or maybe years. The passage of time was strangely unfamiliar to him.

Akechi still occupied much of his thoughts.

He wondered if the other Thieves thought of him, too. No one had spoken a word about him since Akira had come back.

…That was natural. Akechi was dead. And he had been dead for months.

He was dead, so Akira shouldn’t be thinking of him. There was nothing more to be done. Akechi was dead.

“…Akira?”

Akira looks over his shoulder. Morgana’s head peeks out of his bag, brow furrowed. “You okay?”

Akira realizes, then, that he had slowed to a complete stop.

“Mm. I’m fine.” 

Akira pets Morgana’s head.

Morgana gives him a small smile -- the one he always gives Akira when he knows he doesn’t want to talk about it -- and slips back into the bag.

Akira had been seeing that smile increasingly often.

He walks on, moving through the particularly dissonant crowd of people.

Instinctually, he looks down the alleyway --

His heart misses a beat when a blue door greets him, and Lavenza outside of it.

His quick footsteps are loud as he hurries over.

The door is familiar to him -- this feeling was not. Each step closer, his heart pounds a bit harder in his chest. He had long gotten used to seeing the Velvet Room, and entering it at his leisure. The door had always called to him -- in the way that only he knew of its presence, and in the way that he was expected to be there. Now, though, he knows there is no Igor waiting for him, and Lavenza stands outside. He is not expected to enter -- and he no longer has need for its services.

Yet still, the door seems brighter today, it seems to call to him so loudly it screams, and Akira has to fight the overwhelming urge to throw the door open.

Lavenza looks up at him. “…So, you have come to say farewell.” 

Akira tears his gaze away from the door and simply stares back at her.

Lavenza offers him a soft smile. “I have some words of reflection for you in this time of parting. If one wishes to belong, they must be willing to sacrifice their own needs and desires at times. Furthermore, one may even have to cast away their very selves for the sake of those who accompany them… In truth, I would never have come to learn these things if not for you. …I pray you do not lose sight of yourself in the future.”

Akira nods once. “Thank you.”

Even if, he thinks, he’s probably already failed in that.

It probably doesn’t show on his face, at least, because Lavenza gives a soft laugh. “Hm… I believe I should be the one thanking you in this situation.” She pauses, her smile fading, as she slips a hand into her pocket. “…I have more than mere words to give to you today though. Allow me to grant you a parting gift, not as the one who leads you, but simply as Lavenza. It is an item that will commemorate the man who fought for his beliefs, even though it nearly killed him.”

She holds out her hand, and Akira places his palm below it. Something small falls into it and Akira brings it closer to himself.

The key is a bright blue, simple in design but nearly glowing in its sheen.

“This is the key to the cell that held you captive for so long,” Lavenza says. “In the past, guests of the Velvet Room have received their keys upon their very first visits. However, I was unable to pass it onto you at that point. This is the least I can do for you now… With this key in hand, you will be able to break free of whatever trials may imprison you in the future. Though of course, you have already chosen the path of true freedom. My only advice to you would be to remember the others who made that path possible for you. Such a superb Trickster as yourself may already know that at this point.”

Akira’s eyes remain on the key. The people who had made it possible… he had been spending today thanking them, and saying goodbye.

He couldn’t thank Akechi.

Akechi couldn’t know true freedom.

Akira’s gaze shifts to the blue door. His stay as a guest was over.

Yet…

“Lavenza. Can I ask you some things?”

Lavenza’s smile doesn’t waver. If anything, it widens just a bit. “Of course you may.”

She was probably the only person who had a chance of knowing. This would probably be Akira’s only chance to ask. But still his stomach twists and the question rests in his throat for a few moments before he looks at her.

“What… happens to someone who dies in the Metaverse?”

Lavenza’s eyes drift from his. Her smile fades, and she gazes up to the sky. “Death… is perhaps the only absolute in this world, Trickster.”

Akira’s heart turns to lead.

“But I am not an all-knowing being,” she continues. “Much of that world remains a mystery, even to me.” 

Slowly, his eyes move back to the door. His heart pounds again. “And… I want to know if there’s a reason this door is here. I thought my journey was over.”

Lavenza is quiet. 

Akira takes another step closer to the door.

“I want to go inside,” he says, heart slamming against his chest so loudly he can barely hear himself. “I need to.”

He catches Lavenza smiling soft in the corner of his eye.

“Very well,” she says. “Let us go.”

She turns, but Akira has already opened the door and stepped inside.

The Velvet Room is the same as it’s always been. Cells lined the circular wall, though now all were open, including Akira’s own. Akira notes, however, that this time his clothes remain unchanged, transforming into neither his prisoner’s rags, nor his thief’s attire.

“Welcome,” a familiar voice says from the desk, “to the Velvet Room.”

Akira meets Igor’s gaze as he walks closer to the desk.

“I thought that things between us were said and done,” Akira says.

At this, Igor simply laughs, bringing his hands together. “Indeed. Your journey has been completed. You have seized the arcana of the World, and obtained true freedom. Your soul has been refined.”

“Then why are you here?” Akira asks. “Why can I even come here? Or see the door in the first place?”

Again, Igor laughs. “Hm. I wonder myself. Perhaps you are unsatisfied with this conclusion?”

“…I guess I am.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, one hand clenching tightly around the key. “It’s also that I just… felt the need to come here.”

“Intriguing. That’s the first time I’ve had a guest say something like that.” Igor leans forward. “Would you say your dissatisfaction is the reason you felt compelled to come here, then?”

Akira’s eyes slowly fall to the floor, and he shakes his head once. “No… well, maybe a bit. But it’s… more than that.” 

He pauses. Fate and destiny were something he would have placed no stock in this time last year. Even well into his stay in Yongen-Jaya, it wasn’t something he ever really thought about. He remembers, distinctly, the first time he gave it any real consideration.

_“I believe that fate brings people together.”_

His voice is still vivid in Akira’s mind.

“Fate,” Akira says. “It feels… like fate.”

Igor’s gaze moves to Lavenza. Akira follows it, and sees the small smile that curves onto Lavenza’s face.

“This way,” she says. 

She walks around the desk, toward the cell directly behind Igor. Akira notices, then, that not only is this cell door closed, but behind it, against the back wall, lies another door. Its bright cyan tone stands out against the surroundings.

Lavenza stands at the side of cell, and without paying her mind Akira walks up to the barred iron door and pulls. It doesn’t budge. He then pulls the blue key from his pocket, and twists it into the lock of the cell door. It clicks and the door swings open with a creak, providing him with an unobstructed view of the door within.

“What is this?” He asks.

Lavenza shakes her head. “I cannot be certain. But I do know there must be a reason this door formed itself in this cell… and I have a strong feeling that only you may enter.”

Akira takes a step forward. The door is plain -- overwhelmingly so, outside of its shine. He feel his body willing himself closer, an overwhelming urge to grab the knob and throw it open overtaking his muscles.

“You feel drawn to it, do you not?” Lavenza asks. Akira glances away from the door, at her curious expression, and nods his head.

There a moment of silence before Lavenza continues, “I truly don’t know what happens to someone if they die in the Metaverse. However… I think this door may lead you to what you seek.”

Akira takes another step forward and reaches for the door.

“Wait.”

He looks back at Lavenza.

“No matter what you find through that door… I fear that there are things in this world even a Trickster such as yourself cannot change. Nor can I speak for what may happen to you in there. …You understand this, don’t you?”

Akira looks back at the door. “I want to know… what’s behind here. I have to.”

Behind him, Igor laughs again. “You are a curious one. Your journey has been completed and your soul refined… you understand that any further steps you take on this path will be not for your own soul’s sake, yes? What you seek is for another, and it could very well be fruitless… or lead you yourself to destruction.”

Akira slings off his bag, placing it on the ground. Morgana hops out, and jumps onto the bed. 

“Akira…” he says, looking at him with somber eyes. “Are you… sure about this?”

“I’ll be back.”

“I know you will,” Morgana says. “But… are you sure this is worth it? Even if… even if you see something…”

The room is deadly silent.

“Wait for me,” Akira says.

He opens the door -- filled with nothing but bright white light -- and steps past the threshold.

Only white void surrounds him, until he’s taken four full steps inside, and he hears the door shut behind him. Then, colors and shapes swirl and take form around him, rapidly changing into recognizable scenery -- the very alleyway he had just left, in fact. It’s as if he’s just come out of the Velvet Room normally. 

He looks behind himself -- to find nothing. No blue door, no Lavenza or Morgana.

He turns his attention back to the street ahead of him. The crowd bustles with the same noise and movement. All was normal.

Yet somehow butterflies danced in his stomach. All was normal, but foreboding creeped into his body. 

His eyes continue to watch the passersby. At the very least, he should --

He catches a glimpse of eye-catching, bouncing blonde pigtails. And behind that person, a girl with strikingly fluffy hair --

\-- He didn’t think anyone had made plans to get together today.

Akira walks briskly out of the alley, weaving through the crowd of people that had come behind his friends. As he does, he gleans split second looks between the people of everyone else -- in front of Ann and Haru was Yusuke’s tall figure, his head above everyone else, and at his side a girl with orange hair, who was so short it could only be Futaba. Makoto and Ryuji seemed to be with them too --

“Hey,” he says as he draws closer to them. “Hey,” he repeats, after not getting a response.

This time, Ann turns, and tilts her head curiously at him.

“Hey,” he says, stopping with her. “What’re you all doing?”

“Uh… excuse me?”

Akira meets her gaze, and their expressions sharing equal confusion.

“What’s wrong, Ann?” Haru says, looking back, and tilting her head at the two of them.

“I… uh, do you need something?” Ann says, laughing awkwardly and twirling strands of hair around her finger.

“Uh,” Akira stammers. “I just… wanted to know where you guys were going.”

“Hey, is this guy bothering you?” Ryuji asks, joining them with a scowl on his face.

“No,” Ann says, “I think he’s just confused me for someone else, maybe?”

Akira just stares at them.

“Hey,” Ryuji calls, looking to the rest of the group, “do any of you know this guy?”

Yusuke, Futaba, and Makoto each pull back, looking at Akira with a curious expression before shaking their heads.

“I… uh,” Akira says, “I’m gonna go.”

“Hey, what about you, do you know him?” Ryuji asks.

Akira had already started to turn, but he freezes entirely when he hears another person speak.

“No…”

Akira turns so fast his head spins.

Goro Akechi met his gaze with an unreadable expression, his hand at his chin. 

“I can’t say I recognize him,” Akechi says. 

A black, white-muzzled cat pokes its head out of the bag slung over his shoulder, and meows once. Akechi laughs softly.

“I don’t think Morgana does either.”


	2. Chapter 2

Akira stares.

Akechi looks the same as he always had. He's dressed in his familiar blue sweater vest, though instead of his usual suitcase, he has a plain black duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

Again, Morgana meows from it.

“Shh, Morgana,” Ann says, frowning at him. “I don’t think this guy means any harm.”

She looks back at Akira, but Akira keeps his eyes on Akechi. Akechi watches him, hand at his chin as he curiously tilts his head a bit. His eyes had a brightness to them, a sparkle. One that Akira couldn’t say he knew too well.

“Oi, if you don’t need anything, we gotta get going,” Ryuji says, looking at his phone. “Movie starts in ten minutes.”

“You look confused,” Makoto says, brow slightly furrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Akira manages, his gaze still on Akechi. “I’m fine. I’m just -- uh, I’m lost.”

“Where are you trying to go?” Haru asks.

“Uh…” Akira rubs the back of his neck, glancing at her. “The station.”

Haru smiles at him. “The station’s right there,” she says, pointing at the stairwell off to the side. “Have you been here before?”

“We gotta go, guys,” Ryuji calls loudly, taking the front of the group. “C’mon.”

“Good luck,” Ann says, turning and joining the others as they walk along down toward the theater. Haru offers him another smile before joining her.

Akechi is the last to turn away, giving Akira a smile and a wave before he goes.

Akira stands in the street, people walking around him, until the backs of his friends disappear into the theater.

Slowly, Akira steps to the side of the street.

Staying calm, no matter the situation, was something that came naturally to him. It was easy for him to clear his mind, focus, and calmly assess a situation.

But right now, his heart pounds so hard against his chest it hurts.

He takes a deep breath.

There was too little available information to go on to make any judgments. Was this a dream? It felt too real. He grabs his hand and squeezes, hard, until he feels pain.

He hadn’t gone back in time -- too many things simply contradicted that outright. 

Curiously, he takes his phone out from his pocket to confirm the date --

_March 19_  
_4:14PM_  
_No service_

He blinks and swipes to his messages.

Nothing. Not even old ones -- his inbox is completely empty.

He swipes to his contacts.

Blank.

Quickly, he switches to the page where the Metaverse Navigator app used to be.

Nothing.

He sighs and pockets his phone again, before glancing down the alleyway where the Velvet Room door had been. It remains empty.

He leans against the wall and brings his hand to his chin.

He could wait for their movie to get out and press them again… but he doubts he’ll get anywhere with that. Worst case, they would think he was some kind of stalker.

For now, he just needs some information. None of his friends seemed to know him -- was it just them? Or everyone he had come to know over the last year?

He checks his other pocket, taking out his wallet -- which, thankfully, still has his money and train pass.

Quickly, he makes his way over the station entrance, and hurries down the stairs.

* * *

_"Next stop, Yongen-Jaya. Next stop, Yongen-Jaya."_

After a painfully long wait for a train and what seemed like a much longer ride than usual, Akira is leaving the platform. 

The backstreets of Yongen-Jaya were always quiet, but now, in the dwindling sunlight of the afternoon, things only got quieter. It made it peaceful and tranquil, even during a time when crowds were at their peak elsewhere. Akira always felt at peace here.

Though right now, even the quietude of this place does little to assuage the uneasy feeling creeping through his body.

He takes a deep breath as he opens the café door.

The bell gives a soft chime. Inside, all appears to be the same -- but so had everywhere else he had been.

Sojiro stands behind the counter, attention vaguely on the TV. Only when Akira takes another step in does Sojiro turn to him.

“Welcome. What can I get you?”

Akira’s step doesn’t falter. 

“A house blend,” he says, taking a seat at the counter.

“Coming right up.”

Sojiro gets to work and Akira’s eyes start to wander about the café more thoroughly. Indeed, everything seems to be as it was in the Leblanc Akira had left only just a while ago. The one -- quite striking -- difference was the absence of the _Sayuri_ on the wall. 

“So you new here?” Sojiro asks, busying himself with the coffeemaker. “I usually get just locals and regulars in a place like this, but I can’t say I’ve seen you around.”

“Yeah,” Akira says. “I’m moving here for school.”

“Well, welcome to Yongen-Jaya.”

“Thank you.” 

Sojiro places the cup of coffee in front of him. “Let me know if you want a refill, or anything else.”

Akira nods and brings the hot cup close to himself. The scent that drifts upwards is familiar, and even if only had a cup just a few hours ago, it feels nostalgic.

“Do you know Shujin at all?” Akira asks. “It’s the school I’m transferring to, and I haven’t gotten the chance to visit.”

Sojiro brings a hand to his chin. “A bit. I don’t have any kids myself. Oh, don’t know if you’ve heard about it, but there was a bit of a scandal last year.” Akira tilts his head, and Sojiro continues, “Well, one of the teachers was apparently a real bastard. Harassing girls on the sports team and whatnot. Anyway, some students gathered evidence against him before anything too terrible happened, apparently, so he got the boot. People still bring it up time to time though.”

“That’s awfully noble of them.”

Sojiro nods slowly, before turning his attention down to the crossword puzzle laying on the counter. “Yep. World would certainly be a better place if everyone was like those kids.”

Akira takes a long sip of the coffee, before propping his elbows up on the counter, fingers laced together. “And it was just regular students that did this?”

“That’s what I heard.”

“Nobody else was involved? No… sort of group, or anything?”

Sojiro looks back up at him, an eyebrow raised. “Like what?”

“Just… seems impressive that a group of ordinary high schoolers could accomplish something like that. Was that really all they were?”

Sojiro almost laughs, now, as he crosses one leg over the other at the ankle. “What else would they be? Are you doing some kind of detective work or something?”

Akira stops mid-sip of of drink, but for just a split second. “Not really,” he says. “Just curious.”

A quiet falls between them, and Akira finishes his coffee. Perhaps there was another way he could approach this. Perhaps he should go back and try to meet with the others --

…No. That would get him nowhere.

Every rational thought yells that at him. There was nothing to be gained from probing them right now. …But it would be another chance to --

“I’ll have another,” he says, pushing his cup forward before he’s done speaking.

“Sure thing.”

Akira’s eyes drift back down to the counter as Sojiro takes his cup. Maybe it wouldn’t be a waste of time. After all, Akechi’s presence was the single greatest anomaly --

…Anomaly. Like it was wrong for him to be here.

That wasn’t the right way to think about it.

His next cup comes and he brings it close to his body, staring down at his own dark reflection. It hadn’t been long since he passed through that door in the Velvet Room. It was presumptuous to focus on Akechi alone. 

…No, it wasn’t.

Akechi was the reason Akira was here, and he knew that. Yet some part of him tells him to explore other ideas, to look for other inconsistencies. Perhaps it’s the part of him that likes to think things through rationally. Or perhaps it’s the part of him that doesn’t want to know the truth.

Why wouldn’t he, though?

Akechi -- was dead. Whatever this all was -- an illusion, a dream, a vision of someplace else -- that fact could not be changed. There was no sense dwelling or mourning over this. That time had passed.

He realizes his own reflection isn’t looking back up at him anymore; that somewhere along in this thoughts he had finished his coffee again.

Well, good. He could go back, and worse case scenario, tail Akechi and get to the bottom of this. 

He doesn’t move.

He can recall, vividly, the way Akechi had looked at him back at Central Street. A twinkle in his eyes and a warmth that seemed to radiate from within him.

Despite the fact that it wasn’t anything at all intimidating, Akira’s heart pounds against his chest.

He wonders if Akechi would look like that coming out of the theater. He wonders what kind of movie they went to go see. 

What sort of movies did Akechi even like?

Akira had never gotten to ask.

…Maybe he could, now. Maybe -- before this was all over -- he could ask things, he could learn things -- 

He bites his tongue.

There was no point.

Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes. Once he was ready -- for what, he wasn’t even sure -- all he had to do was go back to Shibuya, and --

“I’m back!”

The bell rings with a chime somehow more airy than the voice it accompanies. Akira’s head turns so fast his hair bounces.

Akechi meets his gaze and blinks, but his smile stays in place. “Oh, it’s you.”

“You know him?” Sojiro asks, hand on the back of his hip.

“We crossed paths while I was out with everyone,” Akechi says, walking by Akira. He places his bag next to the attic stairs. “Go on, Morgana,” he says, and the cat jumps out and hurries upwards.

“Well,” Sojiro says, taking off his apron and hanging it up, “he’ll be be taking over. I’ve got some shopping to do. Have a good night.” 

Without looking back, he’s out the door.

“So,” Akechi says, quickly tying an apron around his back, “what can I get you?”

For a moment Akira just stares at him. Akechi returns his gaze with a small smile as he slides a hair tie off his wrist and deftly pulls the back of his hair into a low ponytail.

“Just a refill,” Akira says, pushing the empty cup toward him. “Of the house blend.”

“Certainly.” Akechi takes his cup and brings it over to the coffeemakers.

Akira watches him. The smile doesn’t fade from Akechi’s face, and he pours and handles the coffee with a sense of familiarity. “Here you are,” he says, placing the cup back in front of Akira.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” 

The smile he gives Akira is warmer than the cup in between his hands.

Akechi turns, and starts to shift some things on the shelves, placing containers and bags in proper places. “So,” he says, “did you get where you needed to be?”

“I did,” Akira says. He hadn’t quite thought his lie that far ahead -- yet -- so he leaves it at that. He watches Akechi go about his work -- he notes the way his hair sashays when he moves, and the way Akechi had tied his apron in a neat, perfect bow.

He can really only be called cute.

There are answers Akira wants -- needs -- and so many questions he could ask. But he simply continues to follow Akechi’s smooth movements, occasionally taking a sip from his drink. Akira lets out a small, quiet sigh, a tiredness settling into his body -- or perhaps he’s just now realizing it’s there, as he lets his body relax for the first time in the day.

“So you just moved here, I take it?” Akechi says as he turns around, leaning forward with his hands against the counter and looking at Akira intently.

“Yeah,” Akira says, nodding. “I’m transferring to Shujin this year.” 

“Oh, I’m just finishing my third year there,” Akechi says, smile widening. “That’s a shame. I would’ve gladly shown you around.”

Akira raises his eyebrows a bit. “Oh?”

“Well, of course. I can understand that it might be overwhelming to transfer to a new school.”

“No,” Akira says, shaking his head, “I mean, you really go to Shujin?”

Akechi laughs, just something little, like the chime of a bell. “Is that strange?”

Akira takes a sip of coffee. “I guess not,” he says eventually. “Just… a coincidence.”

Leaning forward a bit more, Akechi props an elbow on the counter, and rests his head on his hand. “Perhaps. But meeting you before, and now here again, and then finding out that you’re transferring to Shujin… rather than coincidence, it feels more like --”

“Fate?”

Akira, for the first time since Akechi’s walked in, has his eyes down at his drink. He only sees Akechi cast his gaze down in his peripheral.

“Yes,” Akechi says slowly. “I believe… that fate brings people together.”

Akira looks up, and finds that Akechi has, too. Their eyes meet.

“I think so, too.”

Akechi’s smile returns -- softer, though.

“I don’t believe I heard your name,” he says.

“…Akira Kurusu.”

“Akira… Kurusu?”

Akechi repeats it, his brow furrowing slightly as he stands back upright, a hand on his chin.

“Is something wrong?” Akira asks.

Slowly, Akechi shakes his head once. “No… no. That was rude of me… my apologies.” He smiles again -- this time one that Akira finds familiar. “I’m Goro Akechi. Nice to meet you.”

Akira manages to fight the twinge in his heartstrings enough to smile lightly. “You too.”

The clock ticks loudly, indicating a new hour.

“Ah… I do have to close this place up now,” Akechi says. “Though, you’re free to stay and finish your drink.”

Akira, already starting to take another sip, makes it a long one and then puts down his empty cup. “Thank you, but I’m all set.”

Akechi smiles at him and takes his cup, bringing it over to the sink.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Akira looks down at it -- and then sighs lightly. Still no service.

“So, where did you move to?” Akechi says, walking back over to the counter.

Akira looks up at him. “Oh,” he says after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh. Just a little place. I forget the exact address. It’s -- complicated, actually. My parents are coming separately with our stuff and they got really held up, so I can’t go there yet.”

“I see… that’s unfortunate,” Akechi says. “So do you have a place to stay for the night?”

“I… not exactly,” Akira says, now realizing this himself. “But I have enough find someplace to stay for the night.”

Akechi places a hand on his hip, his lips nearly forming a pout. “That’s not good.” He closes his eyes, hand on his chin. “Well, if you’re okay with it, would you like to stay here overnight?”

Akira blinks. “I mean -- I’m okay with it, I’m just… surprised you’re offering. …We just met.”

“…That’s true,” Akechi says slowly. Akira watches him -- he watches him look downward, as if he’s not speaking to Akira at all. He watches strands of hair fall and frame Akechi’s face, half-masking the way his long eyelashes hood his eyes. “But you said you believe in fate, don’t you?”

Akira feels his lips barely curve into a small smile. “That’s true.”

Akechi nearly beams at him.

“Well then, let me finish up here,” Akechi says, walking over to the door and flipping the sign. “Just so you know, it’s really just an attic upstairs, but I hope you’ll be comfortable enough.”

“My old room wasn’t so different,” Akira says.

Akechi gives a soft laugh as he heads to the sink and quickly washes out Akira’s cup. “I’ve tried to make it a nice space. I actually don’t live here usually, but it’s easier to get to Shujin from here than from my apartment. So I help out down here when I can, too.”

Akira stands, leaving some money on the counter as he does so. “Oh? So do you have some kind of relation to -- the guy who runs this place?”

“Not by blood, no,” Akechi says, wringing his hands dry. He unties his apron quickly and hangs it up, before looking back at Akira. “Now then, let’s go.”

He grabs his bag and heads up the stairs, and Akira follows a few steps behind him. This was a perfect opportunity -- an entire evening alone with Akechi. Perfect for gathering information, of course.

The attic is both familiar and strikingly foreign. But mostly familiar -- the bed rests in the same place, as does the tall shelf, the desk, the table, the couch, and even the potted plant. However it’s much tidier than Akira generally kept it -- not that he was a slob, but everything of Akechi’s seems to be organized in a proper place, clothes folded and packed tightly into boxes in the corner shelf, and not a speck of dust floating in the air. Standing out from this order was the large table in the center of the room -- the same one Akira would pull out for the Thieves’ meetings -- which still had several chairs placed around it, and a few empty bottles and snack wrappers sitting on top.

“Sorry for the mess,” Akechi says, pushing in some of the chairs. “My friends and I were here before we went to the movies.”

“It’s really not,” Akira says. “You should see my room.”

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind cats,” Akechi says, as an all too familiar one jumps up onto the table. “This is Morgana.”

Akira smiles, reaching out his hand. “I don’t. I like them a lot, actually.”

Morgana sniffs Akira’s hand for a moment, before rubbing his head into it. Akira scratches behind his ear.

“Well, he seems to like you quite enough,” Akechi says, letting out a soft giggle. “Please feel free to sit down.”

Akira takes a seat on the couch. “So were those friends from school?”

“Some of them,” Akechi says as he sets his bag down on the desk. “Are you going to be a third year? A couple of my friends are too, so I’m sure they’ll be willing to help you out with anything.”

“Yeah. That’d be nice.”

Akechi smiles at him, sitting on the bed as he pulls the hair tie from his hair and takes his phone out of his pocket.

The silence they fall into is comfortable.

Akira continues to pet Morgana, running his hand down his back in a steady rhythm. His mind went through several things he could ask Akechi -- any details having to do with the last few months would probably be of the most help, though. 

His eyes move around the table. Even now, he can vividly see the group of them gathered around it, planning their next heist. At this particular table, of course, what stands out the most are their trips into Sae Niijima’s Palace. Every time Akira would sit in the same chair -- his eyes glance over to it -- and Akechi would stand next to him. Akechi seemed to always be at his side when they were together -- whether it was during these strategy meetings or as the only one who seemed to be able to keep up with Akira’s pace in the Metaverse. 

In this place, this illusion or dream or whatever it may be -- was it Akechi who sat in that seat? Did someone else stand at his side?

How had things even come to play like this, keeping the Thieves in such low profile that even Sojiro hadn’t heard of them? 

Perhaps asking Akechi directly would be best. Or even asking about one of the more well-known cases, such as Medjed or Okumura…

Akira looks up at him, and is immediately met with Akechi’s gaze.

Akechi quickly turns away, brushing his hair over his shoulder and looking down at his phone. His posture is lax -- leaning back on a hand, one leg swung over the other. It reminds Akira of how Akechi usually carried himself in Leblanc, except now Akechi has a small, content smile on his face as he quickly swipes his thumb across his phone screen. 

“So,” Akira says, “what movie did you go see?”

…Maybe that wasn’t the best information gathering question, but Akira would get there, of course.

Akechi meets his gaze, smile widening a bit. “Oh, it was that new mystery thriller. It was quite good.”

“Yeah?” Akira leans forward a little. “You like those sort of movies, too?”

Akechi nods, putting his phone down. “I’m not an expert or anything, but they’re my favorite types of movies, definitely.”

“Me too,” Akira says, feeling a small smile play at his lips. “They’re not movies, but over the summer I actually rented some seasons of that X-Folders show. I wish I had gotten to see more, it was really good.”

“Oh!” Akechi says, smilingly brightly, “I’ve been watching that! Renting them from the DVD place myself, actually.”

“How far are you?” Akira asks.

“Only at the start of season three,” Akechi says, leaning back on both of his hands. “I took a break in the middle of season two, just because --”

“Of the weird romance subplot?”

 _“Yes,”_ Akechi says, smile widening.

Akira laughs a little. “Yeah, it’s not written that well. I only got to the middle of season three, but it seems like they drop it, at least.”

Akechi nods, before standing up and walking to the shelf next to the stairs. “Since it’s not that late yet, we could watch some to pass the time, if you wanted? We could pick up from where you left off.”

“That sounds fun, but really, let’s start from the beginning of three. I don’t mind rewatching some, it’s been a while.”

Akechi gives him a light smile as he takes a DVD off of the shelf. “If you’re sure. Oh, here,” he adds, heading over to the table. “I’ll move these things so we can turn the couch.” He picks up one of the chairs, bringing it to the side of the room.

Wordlessly, Akira gets up, and carries a different chair off to a corner.

“Thank you,” Akechi says, picking up another. “You’re quite helpful.”

Akira rubs the back of his neck, before grabbing the last one. “Nah. This sort of stuff just gets tedious by yourself, that’s all.”

Akechi gives what can only be called a giggle, covering his mouth with his hand. “That’s true. You sound like you have personal experience.”

“You could say that,” Akira says as he walks to the opposite end of the table as Akechi. Together they left it up, bringing it off to the other side of the room.

“I like them quite a lot, but I do wish they’d clean up after themselves a bit more,” Akechi says with a small sigh, glancing at the empty bottles and wrappers on the table.

“I guess… maybe they kind of see you as a leader?” Akira says, looking up at Akechi past the upper frames of his glasses.

He sees Akechi’s flicker to him and then back away. Pushing a lock of hair behind his ear, he gives a short laugh. “Perhaps so.”

Without further ado, Akechi walks back to the couch, pulling one end of it out until it fully faces the TV. “Oh, are you hungry?” He asks as turns on the DVD player and inserts the disc. “It’s not much, but there’s some leftover curry in the fridge I made.”

Akira shakes his head once as he heads over to the couch and sits. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”

“Well, let me know if you want anything to eat or drink,” Akechi says, turning on the television. The familiar CRT set blinks to life in a way Akira knows too well, and with a series of loud clicks on the buttons of the DVD player, Akechi starts an episode. He then switches off the lights and sits on the side of the couch opposite Akira.

Not a moment later, Morgana jumps up from the floor onto the backside of the couch, laying with his legs tucked under himself as he stares at the TV. Akechi giggles, scratching under Morgana’s chin. 

Akira watches them -- the tender smile on Akechi’s face, the gentle and slow way his fingers rub against Morgana. Lit only by the TV and the growing moonlight, the image painted is one of the softest Akira has seen.

Akechi meets his gaze and Akira clears his throat, shifting himself so that his back leans against the arm of the couch as he swings his legs up and rests his feet in the middle cushion. “Oh, this is a good one,” he says quietly as the title comes on.

“No spoilers,” Akechi says, teasing smile on his face as he turns himself, mirroring Akira with his back against the couch’s side and his feet in the middle, though his knees rest close to his chest.

They’re quiet, mostly, during the episode. At times they talk about the events, and on two occasions Akechi goes into rather great detail about about the various cinematography techniques and visuals at work. Both times he seems to realize suddenly how long he had been going on, clearing his throat and apologizing, and both times Akira just smiles at him fondly and tells him he doesn’t mind.

The episode ends and goes into another, which goes into another. Though the time spent is much longer than two episodes’ worth, as each time one ends Akira and Akechi get into a rather lengthy conversation regarding the events. 

Akechi picks up on a lot of things Akira misses, honestly, so it’s a fruitful discussion; one that would probably be even moreso if Akira would give him his full attention. But it’s hard to focus solely on his words when it’s easy to get lost in the animated way Akechi talks, the way his eyes shine with a carefree sparkle so pretty Akira couldn’t help but smile, yet so foreign to him that it made his heartstrings twinge.

It’s in the middle of their second post-episode discussion when Akira notes just how much Akechi has let his body relax, legs having slumped down far enough that his feet mingle against Akira’s. They’re warm.

Some time into the third episode, Akira finds his eyelids becoming distinctly heavy. The sounds of the show start to sound further and further away and become harder to understand. Slowly, he shifts his gaze over to Akechi.

Their eyes meet and Akechi looks away, quickly bringing his hand to his temple.

“Are you okay?” Akira says, trying to mask the sleepiness in his voice.

“Oh, yes,” Akechi says, and though the smile is clearly forced, Akira doesn’t press it further. “Though I -- I’m going to head to the restroom, I’ll be right back.” 

He doesn’t wait for a response and he doesn’t pause the episode before heading downstairs with brisk steps.

Akira looks over at the DVD player -- he should pause it, and he wants to, but it’s not within arm’s reach without getting up, and his heavy body feels all but glued to the couch…

Somehow, even though it feels like it’s only been a minute, the credits start to roll. Akechi had been gone a while. Or had they been that close to the end?

Akira has no idea.

He does realize, though, that he hadn’t learned a single thing that whole time.

Well, that wasn’t true. He learned that Akechi liked mystery and thriller and a bit of sci-fi, he learned that Akechi could ramble on and on without realizing it, he learned that Akechi had a sparkle in his eyes when he talked about something that interested him, he learned that Akechi’s genuine, carefree giggle was much cuter than the one he used on TV…

…Tomorrow, Akira tells himself as the last glimpses of the dark attic blur into nothingness and he falls asleep.

* * *

Akechi regrets turning on the bathroom light the moment he heads in, as the seemingly blinding shine is like daggers in his already throbbing head. He twists the handle of the sink and lets cool water fills his palms, leaning down and splashing it onto his face. After doing it once more, he slowly looks up into the mirror.

His reflection stares back at him, same as always. The same Goro Akechi that was graduating from Shujin. The same Goro Akechi who had gone to the movies with his friends today. The same Goro Akechi that --

A dull wave of pain washes over his brain again and he takes in a shaky breath, legs feeling a bit like jelly. He steps over to the wall and takes his phone out of his pocket. 

His home screen greets him -- a picture of him, Ann, Ryuji, and Yusuke -- as he checks the time. Surely, he could afford another minute or two here to get his bearings…

Hands shaking a bit, he goes to lock his phone again -- only to gasp sharply as it falls from his grasp, hitting the floor with what sounds like the force of an earthquake.

He quickly leans over and picks it up, sighing deeply when he’s met with a crack in his screen. It’s thin but prominent, running from the corner, right down through where he stood in the group photo.

His insides twist a bit.

Steadily, he sinks to the floor, back against the wall and knees up to his chest. He stares at his phone, his friends smiling back at him. At him. At Goro Akechi.

His eyes wander to each of them individually, recalling what they had talked about earlier that day, the time they spent together --

\-- He didn’t pause the show, did he? He doubts Kurusu had either, with his half-lidded eyes and head leaned against the couch’s back, hair already somehow tousling further --

Akechi shuts his eyes tightly, pain creeping through his head again.

As it fades, he swipes to his messaging app, and types to the group chat the top of his contact:

_“Anyone else still awake?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hoped to have this up a bit quicker, but here it is regardless! thank you everyone who left kudos thus far and of course for the comments! they're super encouraging to me and i would love to hear your feedback as i continue with this! please yell at me abt shuake at twitter (@kuremikazuchi) or tumblr (@kiryuujoshua) as well!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i'm sorry this update took longer than the other to roll out! however it's more than the length of the previous chapters combined so i hope that makes up for it a bit! thank you to everyone leaving me comments, it's appreciated so so much!! i look forward to them more than i can express!

Sunlight gently coaxes Akira from sleep. His eyes remain shut despite the light seeping through his lids, the warmth sinking into his whole being and making him feel heavy against the couch.

He inhales deeply. The oxygen rouses his body, but what truly brings his senses to focus is the scent that accompanies. A mix of familiar coffee and something else, something warm and inviting and sweet like a flower that Akira just wants to bury himself in.

Slowly, he opens his eyes. The attic greets him, sunlight filtering inside in the form of bright rays, though without the usual specks of dust floating in them. 

Akira groggily sits up, the blanket that had been pulled up to his nose falling down his torso. His vision finally in full focus, he glances around the room, rubbing sleep from one of his eyes.

No Akechi.

Or Morgana, either, he realizes.

He pulls his phone from his pocket.

_March 20_  
_8:09AM_  
_No service_

Akira groans lightly. He couldn’t recall the last time he saw any time earlier than 11AM on non-school days.

Switching his phone into a battery saver mode, he pockets it again, and stands up. He glimpses at his glasses -- folded neatly and placed on the table next to him. Hadn’t he fallen asleep with them on?

…He had, hadn’t he.

He puts them on, and then, after hearing a faint noise from downstairs, makes his decision.

His steps to the bed are light and quick. Akechi’s phone sat on it, plugged into the outlet next to his pillow. Curiously, Akira notices, only a thin sheet covers his mattress.

He turns his head back to the couch, where the blanket that was on him still lay.

The phone vibrates, bringing his attention back to it.

Focusing firmly on the task at hand, Akira picks it up. The notification was, thankfully, just that it was fully charged, and not a message Akira wouldn’t be able to check without causing the suspicion of deleting the notification.

He unlocks the screen -- noticing now that it’s cracked. As far as he remembered, Akechi’s screen had no abrasion, and it seemed rather unlike him.

Then again, so did having a phone background that was a picture of him, Ann, Ryuji, and Yusuke.

Akira notes that Akechi’s phone does indeed have service, before quickly going to the text messages. 

Unlike his own texting app, Akechi’s was plainer, displaying no chat icons and rather than conversation topics, simply the first line of the conversation was displayed. Sighing, Akira taps the most recent one. The familiar icons of all Akira’s friends display at the top of the page, and his eyes start to follow the chat log:

**March 20, 1:14AM**

**Goro Akechi:** Anyone else still awake?

 **Futaba Sakura:** Of course

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Yo

 **Ann Takamaki:** Barely

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** Indeed.

 **Ann Takamaki:** What’s up?

 **Goro Akechi:** Can’t sleep.

 **Futaba Sakura:** Want me to come over and we can play Star Forneus?

 **Goro Akechi:** I appreciate that, but I wouldn’t want you to walk this late at night by yourself. Besides, you actually couldn’t right now.

 **Futaba Sakura:** ;_; why not

 **Goro Akechi:** It’s a bit of a complicated situation.

 **Ann Takamaki:** Complicated?

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** What’s going on?

 **Goro Akechi:** Someone is actually sleeping over here.

 **Futaba Sakura:** O_O

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** TMI

 **Ann Takamaki:** Omg don’t leave us hanging

 **Ann Takamaki:** Who is it

 **Goro Akechi:** It’s actually that boy we met outside the theater.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Oh it’s a guy

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** That’s kinda weird

 **Ann Takamaki:** He was pretty cute

 **Ann Takamaki:** Omg did you go looking for him after the movie

 **Ann Takamaki:** He did seem to catch your eye

 **Goro Akechi:** I did not

 **Goro Akechi:** It was a coincidence. He was in the café when I got back. It’s a long story but he had nowhere to stay for the night so I told him he could stay here.

 **Futaba Sakura:** That’s convenient. Are you sure he didn’t make it up?

 **Goro Akechi:** He didn’t.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** How do you know

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** You don’t even know this guy and you’re letting him sleep in your room…

 **Ann Takamaki:** So you two met by coincidence a second time and hit it off so well that you’d let him stay over… omg

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** Does anyone know if there are 24 hour art stores?

 **Futaba Sakura:** >_>

 **Ann Takamaki:** Omg Yusuke

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** Yes?

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Dude scroll up

 **Goro Akechi:** Never mind it

 **Goro Akechi:** Anyway, I just wanted to ask if I could invite him tomorrow, if his situation still isn’t resolved by morning.

 **Ann Takamaki:** YES

 **Ann Takamaki:** You have to

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Where did all this energy come from

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** I thought you were barely awake

 **Ann Takamaki:** Things like this energize me

 **Ann Takamaki:** Anyway, I’m sure everyone will be fine with it. I mean, I’m bringing Shiho

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Yeah, fine with me

 **Futaba Sakura:** I object!!

 **Ann Takamaki:** Why??

 **Futaba Sakura:** Kidding. Just make sure you don’t let him keep you up too late :3

 **Ann Takamaki:** Omg

 **Goro Akechi:** He’s asleep

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** DUDE

 **Futaba Sakura:** Wow! Good job!

 **Goro Akechi:** I am going to bed.

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Seriously dude though be careful

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Like I said, you don’t even know him

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** If you can’t sleep, perhaps you could give me some feedback on this piece I’m working on? I’m thinking of adding a different shade of blue to this part, but I can’t tell if it’s fine as it is, and moreover, I don’t have the shade of blue I want.

 **Futaba Sakura:** -_-

 **Goro Akechi:** I am sure it looks lovely as is.

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** Oh, you let that boy stay over? 

**Futaba Sakura:** -___-

 **Goro Akechi:** Good night, everyone. See you tomorrow.

 **Ann Takamaki:** Good luck!!!

 **Ryuji Sakamoto:** Night

 **Futaba Sakura:** o/

 **Yusuke Kitagawa:** Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything, at any time.

 **Goro Akechi:** Thank you.

Akira scrolls down but no more messages appear.

He backs out, going to tap the next log -- or perhaps he should go back further, or look at his contacts --

“Mrow.”

Akira turns fast, meeting Morgana’s bright blue eyes staring at him from the top of the stairs.

Feeling his stomach flip, Akira hastily backs all the way back to the home screen. “Listen,” he says quietly, “don’t tell him. Please. I can’t explain, but I’m not trying to cause any problems. There’s just something I have to find out. I would never hurt him.”

He pauses at that, thumb freezing as he went up to lock the screen.

“At least give me the day,” he says, looking back at Morgana. “If you still think I’m suspicious by then, fine. But --”

A footstep creaks the bottom step.

Akira locks the phone and quickly places it back on the bed, before making brisk steps over to the couch. He sits down just as the top of Akechi’s head comes into view.

“Ah, you’re up,” Akechi says with a smile warmer than the sun that had woke Akira in the first place. “How did you sleep?”

“Well, actually,” Akira says, the realization of how light and rested his body felt hitting him only now, despite how early he rose.

“I’m glad. Here,” Akechi says, holding out one of the plates he was carrying. “Apologies I didn’t have time to make anything nicer. I usually wake up earlier than this.”

“Thank you,” Akira says as he takes the plate. On it lay two slices of toast and a small bowl of rice. “I really appreciate it.”

Akechi sits on the other end of the couch. “It’s no problem.”

The two eat quietly, but it’s just a few bites later that Akechi asks, “Did your parents contact you at all?”

Akira takes a large bite of the toast, giving himself several moments before he answers, “Oh, yeah. They’re not sure exactly what’s happening today, but it looks like they probably won’t be here till late, if at all.”

“I see,” Akechi says. “That’s unfortunate for them.” 

Akira watches him over the rim of his glasses. Akechi chews his next bite slowly, eyes staring down at his food. “In that case,” he says after swallowing, “did you have plans for today?”

“Not at all.”

Akechi clears his throat and pushes a lock of hair behind his ear, eyes barely meeting Akira’s. “Well, my friends and I were going to have a picnic at a park nearby while the sakura are in bloom. You’re more than welcome to come, if you’d like.”

“That sounds really nice,” Akira says, feeling a smile on his face that contrasts the feeling of his stomach doing a small jump. There’s a pause before he adds, “Are the sakura really blooming already?”

“Oh, yes. Actually, we originally planned to do this at the start of April, but since the reports started about how they’re blooming unnaturally early, and we were all free today, we decided to do it now rather than potentially miss it.”

Akira nods slowly. The news had been on in Leblanc before he left yesterday -- there were definitely no such reports.

Akechi takes another couple quick bites to finish off his rice, and then stands. “Anyway, I need to go back downstairs. We’re all bringing different things, and I forgot to start preheating the oven.”

“What are you making?” Akira asks, sitting up straight.

“Just some cookies,” Akechi says, walking over toward the stairs. “Feel free to turn on the TV, by the way.”

Akira stands up. “Can I help you?”

Akechi looks back at him, and when their gazes catch then Akira is finally able to take a moment to really look at him for the first time in the morning: with the sunlight hitting him directly, it was easy to see each and every strand of Akechi’s sleep-tousled hair that was out of place. He had changed into pajamas at some point after Akira fell asleep, as he was now in a loose-fitting t-shirt and sweatpants. In the warm light his hair seems honey-coated. His eyes, too, seem just as sweet, but less due to the lighting.

“Don’t be silly, you’re a guest,” Akechi says after a moment.

“You’re the one who’s giving me a place to stay, and food, and inviting me out,” Akira says, already taking a step forward. “Besides, I want to help. I like to bake.”

Not entirely true, actually. He had no real feelings about baking itself. …Really, he should probably stay up here and comb through Akechi’s phone more.

Yet still, when Akechi smiles and says, “If you’re sure,” Akira finds his own lips being tugged into a grin.

Akira follows him downstairs, after backtracking just a moment to grab his own plate. He puts it in the sink atop Akechi’s before Akechi hands him an apron.

“Isn’t the café going to open soon?” Akira asks as he puts the apron over his head and ties it around his back.

“Actually, no, he’s not opening today,” Akechi says, turning a couple knobs on the oven. “He has some personal business to take care of.”

Akira raises an eyebrow, but Akechi doesn’t meet his gaze, instead rummaging through one of the cabinets. He pulls out a large bowl and then sets it on the counter.

“Could you get two eggs out of the fridge and crack them into the bowl?” Akechi asks as he turns around and starts to look through a different cabinet.

“Mmhm.” Akira opens the fridge -- at a glance, the contents seem identical to the last he had opened it -- and does as asked, taking two eggs from the carton.

He shuts the door with his foot and cracks one of the eggs on the edge of the bowl, watching Akechi out of the corner of his eye. Akechi lifts a hefty bag of flour from one of the lower cabinets, placing it on the counter and pulling a measuring cup from a drawer.

“Making from scratch?” Akira asks, cracking the second egg.

Akechi smiles. “I’ve actually never used premade mix. I’ve been told these taste better, anyway.”

Akira looks at him a moment, before tossing the eggshells into the trash. Being able to make homemade cookies wasn’t something he had exactly expected out of Akechi, but telling him it was unexpected would probably be suspicious.

Then again, Akechi had let Akira sleep over last night despite barely knowing him.

“Can you get the sugar? It’s in the cabinet behind me.”

Akira is opening the cabinet before Akechi specifies which one, and clears his throat as he puts it on the counter. “How many cups of this?”

“Two, for how much we’re making,” Akechi says, handing Akira the cup after pouring in one more of flour. 

“You have quite a feel for this,” Akira says, scooping a cup.

Akechi rolls up the bag of flour and puts it back in the cabinet, before taking out a few smaller containers. “It’s just something I’ve done a lot, especially when I was younger.” 

Akira nods as he pours the next cup. After rolling the bag up and placing it back in its compartment, he looks back at Akechi. Akechi watches closely as he scoops teaspoons of baking powder, careful that the small measuring is filled _just right_ before dropping it into the bowl. Once a few of those are in, he moves onto the salt, and Akira puts the baking powder away, and then the salt once Akechi is done, as Akechi adds vanilla extract.

“Just some milk and butter,” he says, putting the teaspoon into the sink. He opens the fridge and pulls both of them out, setting the butter on the counter next to Akira. “A quarter cup of that, and I’ll warm the butter up a little bit.”

Akira nods, reaching into a different drawer than the one where the other measurement cups were kept -- Sojiro was weird like that, something about how often he needed things -- and pulls out the quarter cup, carefully measuring out the milk. He hears the microwave beep behind him, and glances at Akechi out of the corner of his eye. His gaze meets Akechi’s -- like he’d been watching -- before Akechi quickly looks back at the microwave, opening it and taking the butter out.

Akira puts the quarter cup into the sink as Akechi measures out some amount of butter with the cup, tapping it on the edge of the bowl with a clink when he’s done.

“Do you mind starting to stir this for me? We’re low on time, and I need to text them to make sure everyone’s ready,” Akechi says.

“Sure,” Akira says. This time he waits for Akechi to take the whisk out of a drawer and place it on the counter. 

Akechi doesn’t look back as he goes up the stairs. 

Akira stirs against the heavy batter, eyes still on the place Akechi had turned the corner. Did Akechi have suspicions? Was he going to tell the Thieves? 

Maybe it was better that way. If Akira could confirm the details of their activities, then --

Then what?

Akira stops stirring.

What was he even doing here? What was he trying to accomplish?

He realizes, standing in the empty Leblanc, that he had walked through that door in the Velvet Room yesterday with no plan at all. As soon as the possibility of seeing Akechi was even a bit real, his mind had been set.

His own recklessness had long ceased to surprise himself, but recklessness without reason was not only surprising, but terrifying.

Akira’s eyes close. In the silence, it’s not hard to imagine being back upstairs, sitting on the couch with Akechi. The comfort, the easy feeling. All the little things he had learned about Akechi.

Maybe that’s why he was here.

Lavenza’s voice is clear in his mind: “Death is perhaps the only absolute in this world.”

What if this wasn’t even Akechi at all? Akechi was -- dead. Dead. It didn’t matter if he died in the Metaverse. Why would that matter? Death was death. It was when the body ceased to function. It was when life was over. It was when you stopped to exist, and other people were no longer able to see you, to talk to you, to learn about you.

Maybe that door hadn’t really been about Akechi at all. Maybe this was some kind of divine punishment, because maybe it was even more Akira’s fault than he realized. 

He remembers Akechi at the Thieves’ meetings, always close to him. Akechi, always at his side in the casino and in Mementos. Akechi, who never really responded to group texts that much, and then Akira would open their private, blank chat window, stare at it, and close it. Akechi, who would come to Akira at the station every so often to talk. Akechi, who Akira would gaze at from across the platform, but never approach first. Akechi, who looked so desperate and confused and torn that night on the cruise ship.

_“You really like Joker, don’t you?”_

That was when Akechi had really lost it, wasn’t it.

Akechi hadn’t been honest with his feelings, and it cost him.

Had Akira not been either?

He already knows what it cost him.

He stirs the batter with enough force that some of it spills out.

Death was death.

The fact that he was getting this time with Akechi and learning all these things about him, despite that -- he should be glad he has the chance at all.

He is. He is. The way Akechi talked and smiled --

Akira’s stomach stops churning and his heart jumps a bit.

That was worth anything.

The stairs creak loudly and Akira looks down at the bowl, the mix having turned into a smooth finish.

Akechi sets his bag on one of the booth tables, and then walks over to Akira. “Thank you,” he says, and Akira shakes his head, pulling the whisk out and tapping it on the side of the bowl. 

“Ah,” Akechi says, taking a step closer. “Hold still.”

He brings a hand up and with a touch much too soft, his finger slides across Akira’s cheek. His bare skin is only lukewarm but it sends a wave of heat down Akira’s body.

It was a touch somehow even gentler than the way Akira must be looking at him right now.

Akechi brings his hand back, a bit of the cookie mix on his finger. “You -- had some on your face,” he says, looking away quickly. He walks to the sink and washes it off.

“Thanks,” Akira says, swallowing and looking down. “So, uh, where’s the tray so we can get these in the oven?”

Akechi nods and heads to the cabinet next to the oven, moving some things around before pulling out a long tray. After setting it on the counter, he sprays it down with oil.

They roll the dough into balls and place them on the tray in silence. 

“I had fun last night,” Akira says eventually.

His eyes glance over to Akechi. Akechi’s hands stop rolling the dough in his hand -- for just a moment.

“I did too,” Akechi says, gaze remaining fixed downwards. 

They make a few more in silence.

Then, Akechi looks up at him, and their eyes meet. “You can come here,” he says, voice quick. It slows as he continues, “If you want to, or if you need something…” Finally, his gaze falls back down, long lashes hooding his half-shut eyes. “If you need a place where… if you need some place to just --”

The oven beeps so loud they both jump a little.

Akechi looks over to it, and then back to the now-filled cookie tray. “Oh -- it’s preheated.” Without looking at Akira, he picks up the tray, opens the oven door, and carefully pushes it inside.

He stands there, and Akira rubs the back of his neck. “Well, those will be done soon,” Akira eventually says.

“Yeah,” Akechi says, setting a timer on the oven. There’s a pause before he adds, “I’m going to go change,” and he heads up without taking off his apron.

Akira stares at the stairs a moment.

Then, he unties his apron and brings it over his head, hanging it up neatly.

In the silence it's easy to hear even the smallest movements from upstairs. He hears the floorboards creak, and Morgana meow. Akechi’s voice is too soft to be intelligible.

Then there's the sound of the floorboard next to the bed -- Akira knows that one too well -- and Morgana meows again, and then the silence returns.

Akira stands still in the quietude, ears carefully focused, for about a minute until he finally sits down at the counter. 

Aimlessly, he pulls his phone from his pocket, and flips through his apps in more detail. Aside from a lack of contacts and messages, there are also no photos in his gallery and no Internet history. A complete reset.

He pockets the phone and looks back to the stairs. There’s still not even the moving of the floorboards, or Akechi’s quiet voice.

Morgana’s head appears at the top step, craning down and looking at Akira from around the corner.

Akira tilts his head a bit and waves once, but Morgana is back upstairs before his hand is even up.

A minute passes, and then another. The silence pursues. And it pursues for the next ten minutes that Akira sits at the counter alone.

Only when the oven beeps does he hear movement from upstairs again, and a moment later Akechi is descending the steps. Instead of his pajamas, now he wore a black shirt tucked into a pair of jeans, and a white overshirt buttoned up halfway. It was by far the most casual look Akira had ever seen him in, but more than that, the outfit was strangely familiar…

His eyes meet Akechi’s. Akechi gives him a small, warm smile, before setting his bag down onto a table and heading to the oven.

“Can you get a container for these from the cabinet over here?” Akechi asks as he carefully reaches a gloved hand in to grab the tray. He places it on the counter and takes off the glove, quickly opening the drawer and taking out a spatula.

Akira does as asked and puts a sizable plastic container next to the tray, and is silent as Akechi peels the cookies off and places them inside. “We should get going right after this. Though,” he adds, laughing a little, “knowing them, at least a few are bound to be late.”

Akira smiles, and pets Morgana, who had jumped onto one of the counter chairs. Sniffing fervently, he leans in toward the cookies.

“Don’t worry,” Akechi says, pausing his motions to stroke him once, “you’ll get a bit too.”

It takes less than a minute for Akechi to package the cookies safely and Akira already has his shoes on when Akechi slings his bag, packed with the cookies and Morgana, over his shoulder.

The café bell chimes as they leave. 

The weather is all sorts of pleasant. A soft breeze carries the air of spring, and a bright sun sits in the crisp blue, cloudless sky. It’s the sort of shining sun that brings out every highlight of Akechi’s hair, making it glitter even amongst all the shadows cast by the buildings of the back alley.

Akira turns his attention to the path in front of them, only glancing at Akechi out of the corner of his eye, now. They walk in silence for a few moments before he asks, “So have you always gone to Shujin?”

Akechi glances at him before turning his gaze back ahead of them and saying, “Only for my last year, actually.” 

“Oh?” Akira says. “Why’d you transfer?”

As they turn the corner and start to close in on the station, Akechi pulls his wallet from his pocket, attention fixed firmly on it. “Well… it’s a bit complicated.”

Akira waits a moment and then says, slowly, “Did something happen?”

Akechi’s pace dwindles a bit. “Mm… not exactly…”

They come upon the subway entrance and Akechi takes hurried footsteps down into it. Akira picks up his own pace a bit to match, swiping his card at the terminal and following Akechi to the platform.

They stand next to each other at the edge. The crowd is far from the rush that Akira generally encountered on his way to school, but even if it was packed, Akira doubts that the talk of a crowd could pierce the silence between him and Akechi.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” Akira says, running two fingers through a part of his bangs. “Sorry.”

Akechi quickly shakes his head, his gaze unmoving off of the train tracks. “No, no. I don’t mind. …I’m happy you’re interested. It’s really… just a family thing, I suppose. Some information got out in regards to my situation and the school I was attending before made it clear they didn’t want me there any longer. I ended up at Shujin because it was in the relative area, but not too close to where I lived… which is another reason I’m staying at the café. I admit I didn’t feel good about it at first… but now I’m thankful.” Akechi looks up, a small smile on his face. “After all, if I hadn’t transferred to Shujin, I wouldn’t have met all my current friends. And I wouldn’t have met you either.” He looks at Akira, a sparkle in his eyes even without the sun shining in them. “Like I said, I really do think fate brings people together.”

Akira feels his mouth curve into a smile on its own. Faintly, he hears the beeping signal of an incoming train.

Akechi’s eyes move back down, his smile fading a bit. “Actually… to be honest, when I talk to you, I feel like --”

The train shoots by them, grinding loudly against the tracks. It brings a rush of air, one that pushes Akechi’s hair fair enough forward that he has to hold it back in place with a hand.

“It looks crowded,” Akechi says, and Akira fights to hold in a laugh as Akechi starts to carefully brush locks of hair back into place. “Let’s hurry.”

Several people get off the train only for several more to get on, which makes it for a bit of tight squeeze as Akira and Akechi slip inside. It’s not stuffed to the brim, but as the train door closes, Akira finds himself unable to position himself in a way where he’s not at least brushing up against Akechi’s side. 

As the train starts to move, Akechi looks over at Akira. “But I want to hear about you, too, if that’s alright. Where did you live before this? Why’d your parents move?”

Akira rubs the back of his neck. “Just a regular small city, I guess. It definitely doesn’t compare to Tokyo, but it was busy enough. My parents… it’s also kind of complicated family things, I guess.” Akira’s heart weighs a bit heavy with the lie. “But my old school didn’t want me anymore either, actually.”

“I see,” Akechi says, looking a bit away. Akira’s heart drops further into his stomach.

“But I don’t mind, really. I didn’t have any attachment to where I lived… no friends really or anything.” Akechi meet his gaze again, and this time Akira is the one who casts his eyes downward. “Actually, I’m really not close with my parents at all. …I’m glad that I’ve had this time away from them.”

Akechi offers him a warm smile. “Transferring to a school with no real friends… we are rather alike, aren’t we?” Then, he gives a small laugh, lightly covering his mouth with his hand. “Maybe it’s a good thing I’m a year ahead of you. We could have ended up as something like rivals.”

Akira looks at him. “I don’t think that would be so bad. …But I think we work better as friends.”

The train is loud as it reaches a stop. Akechi doesn’t speak over it, and just evenly meets Akira’s gaze. Akechi’s eyes are darker in the artificial train light, and his searching look only adds to the effect.

As people move around, some getting off and others getting on, and Akira and Akechi shift around a bit. It starts to move again and Akira can no longer find Akechi’s eyes, his bangs obscuring them as he looks down.

“How was the movie yesterday, by the way? I didn’t get to ask about it too much. And I don’t mind spoilers,” Akira says with a small smile.

Akechi looks back at him, and, thankfully, Akira sees a small smile return to his face.

And so they spend the rest of the ride in conversation. The movie topic quickly dissolves into a discussion on the book it was loosely based on, and Akira finds out that Akechi likes to read, that he likes mystery and detective novels, and then Akira is able to hear about how Akechi wants to study criminology in college. When he asks Akira what he plans to study, Akira tells him honestly that he doesn’t know. He doesn’t bother thinking up some offhand idea, not because the lie is too much but because his mind is too occupied thinking of Akechi in college: Akechi studying and being an honors student just for the sake of it, not because he was attention starved, but because of a want to succeed, a want to go on with his study so that he can help victims. It suits him, it suits him so much more than being a “missing person” with no one looking for him.

When the train slows to its stop, its grinding against the tracks is that of a piercing, icy screech.

Akira steps off after Akechi. They head up the stairs and the spring sky greets them again, its brightness nearly harsh.

“Have you ever gone sakura viewing before?” Akechi asks. 

“No, actually. Guess because I never really had anyone to go with,” Akira says as they turn a corner. “What about you?”

“I have a few times. Not anytime recently, though. I think the last time was --”

“Hey hey you guys!” 

Akira turns to meet the too-familiar voice. Ann is nearly skipping toward them, holding along Shiho by the hand. 

“Hello,” Akechi says, smiling at them. “I’m glad you could make it too, Suzui-san.”

“Thank you for having me,” Shiho says, bowing lightly.

Akechi shakes his head. “You’re always welcome, you know.”

“See, that’s what I keep telling her, too!” Ann says. 

They laugh a little, and Shiho gives Ann a small, playful pout.

“I’m sorry, let me introduce you. This is Akira Kurusu,” Akechi says, gesturing at Akira. “He just moved here, and I let him stay over --”

“No, no! Give me the details later!” Ann says quickly, waving her hand. Not as subtly as she probably hoped, she taps at the bulge of her phone in her shorts pocket. “You’re going to have to repeat it anyway, everyone else is going to want to know.” She clears her throat, and looks at Akira. “I’m Ann Takamaki. It’s nice to meet you! This is Shiho Suzui.”

“Nice to meet you,” Akira says. 

“They both go to Shujin, in the same grade as you,” Akechi says. “So if you need anything, I’m sure they’d be willing to help.”

“You _both_ go to Shujin?” Akira asks, eyebrow raised a bit.

Ann nods. “Yep. So you can count on us!”

Akira moves a strand of his bangs. “Thank you.”

“We should go,” Akechi says, looking at his phone. “Do you know if the others are here?” He asks as he starts to walk.

“I think I saw Makoto and Haru a bit ahead of us, but they’re usually early, anyway,” Ann says. “The other three will probably be late, knowing them…”

Akechi laughs a little. 

“So, so, Kurusu-kun, what do you think of Tokyo? Did you move from somewhere far?” Ann asks.

“It’s kind of busy, but I like it,” Akira says. “And no, I didn’t move from that far.”

“I understand what it’s like to be the transfer kid. I’ve moved around a lot… I’m lucky I have all the friends I do now, but back when I first transferred here… but first real friend was Shiho,” Ann says. Akira’s eyes move away as Ann gives Shiho a tender look, only to catch sight of her interlacing her fingers with Shiho’s own. “I’m glad you were able to meet someone so nice as soon as you moved here, too,” she finishes, looking at Akira with a smile.

Akira nods, looking ahead of them. “It’s been really nice,” he says, a bit softly.

“Oh, look!” Shiho says, pointing as they turn a corner.

The field of sakura trees comes into view. Pink petals sprinkle the grass, the trees in full bloom. Their vibrancy makes all else seem pale.

“Ooh, it’s beautiful!” Ann says. “C’mon, c’mon.”

The four of them cross the street and walk onto the field. A few couples and small groups wander amongst the trees, but not many people altogether. 

“Do you think this is a good spot?” Ann says, walking with Shiho next to one of the bigger trees.

“I think so,” Akechi says, following her. “We’ll be able to see when the others come this way, probably, too.”

Ann nods, slighting her tote bag off her shoulder and placing it next to the tree. Reaching in, she takes out and unfolds a large blanket, unfurling it and spreading it evenly on the ground. “Shiho, let’s go see if we can find Makoto and Haru.”

As they start to set off, Akechi sets down his bag next to Ann’s, and within an instant Morgana leaps out, following right next to Ann.

“Ooh, are you coming, Morgana? Let’s go, then!” She says.

Akechi sits down on the blanket. “It’s funny, but Morgana does seem very fond of her,” he says as Akira sits down next to him.

“She’s nice,” Akira says.

Akechi nods. “She’s one of the first friends I made when I transferred, actually. I don’t know Suzui-san all that well, but I like her, too. They make each other very happy.”

Akechi says something else, too, but Akira’s not too sure what, because his eyes are too focused on how a sakura petal has landed in Akechi’s hair. It’s cute, the warm pink bringing out the honey-coated sheen of his hair. Both equally soft.

“Kurusu-kun?”

Akira meets his gaze. “Hm?”

“I was wondering if I was maybe too forward… I hope you didn’t feel obligated to come. I can understand it might be a bit uncomfortable suddenly having lunch with a group of people you don’t know.”

Akira quickly shakes his head. “Oh, no. I don’t mind. I mean, I guess I usually would… but you guys are easy to be around. I really appreciate the invite.”

Akechi laughs a little, back of his hand covering his mouth. “Well, I hope you still think that when the others get here.”

“I will,” Akira says. He then scoots a bit closer. “Before they do, you… have a petal in your hair, by the way.” 

Akechi’s just barely made eye contact with him as Akira runs his fingers into Akechi’s hair. It’s even softer than it looks, softer than the petal that he picks up between his thumb and index. Akira watches the way the strands catch light as they move, letting them cascade in between his fingers a few seconds before he finally pulls back.

“Oh --” Akechi says, looking between the petal and Akira and back again. “Ah, thank you,” he says, gaze moving down at the blanket.

“Ah! I _knew_ it had to be something like that!”

In an instant Futaba is crouched on the blanket, looking intently from Akira to Akechi. “So?! How did it happen?”

“Hello, Futaba,” Akechi says with a small sigh, though he wears a smile nonetheless. 

“Hello,” says Yusuke, sitting down now next to Futaba, having been several paces behind. “Sorry we’re a bit late. After we met up, Futaba wanted to run back home to grab her sweater.”

“Ahh, don’t blame it just on me! You were late too!” Futaba says. “And it’s a lot colder out than I thought it would be!”

“It is a rather chilly for this time of year,” Akechi says, looking up at the sky. “It’s odd, usually it has to be warmer for the sakura to bloom early…”

“Oh! Yusuke, Futaba-chan!” Ann calls, waving at them from the distance and still holding Shiho’s hand with her other.

“Hello everyone,” Haru says from behind her, waving at them with Makoto at her side.

“Can we eat now? I’m hungry,” Futaba says, taking out a few containers from her bag. “I brought curry that Sojiro made for us!” 

“We should wait for Ryuji too,” Makoto says as she sits on the blanket with the others. “Besides, some introductions are in order.”

She looks expectedly at Akira who says, “Oh, I’m Akira Kurusu. It’s nice --”

“Hey, hey! Wait for me!” Ryuji calls, running over to them.

“Aw. I was looking forward to eating his share…” Futaba mumbles.

“I heard that,” Ryuji says as he sits cross-legged with them.

Makoto laughs softly. “Akira Kurusu, then?”

Akira nods. “I just moved here, and… Akechi’s been helping me as my situation gets sorted out.” He pauses, not oblivious to the several glances that get tossed around. “I’m transferring to Shujin for my third year, so… I hope we all get along.”

“I’m Ryuji Sakamoto,” Ryuji says quickly, waving his hand. “I’m going into my third year at Shujin too, so let’s be pals.”

The rest introduce themselves in tow, and at this point Futaba is pulling the food from everyone else’s bags for them. 

The lunch is sprinkled with warm conversation -- thankfully, no one asks too much about Akira’s personal life, but no one else talks about theirs much, either. It’s mostly discussion about current events, school -- normal friend talk. The sorts of discussions the Thieves’ meetings would dissolve into if there was no more business to be had. Everyone is the same person that Akira had seen only yesterday.

Only Akechi seems different. Because every other moment, he’s smiling, laughing. He’s talking about normal high school boy things, not mental shutdowns and plans to ruin his father’s life, void of any other ambition. But his keen intellect is there, his sharp wit, and an ease of conversation flows between them -- one that Akira realizes isn’t actually all that different, because he recognizes it, he recognizes it from the way they would speak in Leblanc, Akechi sitting there with a coffee cup that’s been empty for hours.

So maybe Akechi’s warmth and smile and laugh at conversation with his friend isn’t so different either.

“I’m glad you brought this guy with you,” Futaba says once the food as dwindled down to just the cookies and Ann and Shiho’s crepes. Smiling at Akira, she continues, “He’s fun.”

“Hell yeah,” Ryuji says. “You fit right in with us, dude. I hope we get put into the same class.”

Akira smiles at them, leaning back against the tree. “Thanks. Me too.”

“Oh, now that we’re not eatin’ so much, why don’t we play a game? I brought cards,” Ryuji says, quickly fishing through his bag.

“Ooh, like what, poker?” Futaba leans forward. “I’ll warn you, I’m pretty good.”

“I can’t imagine you have much of a poker face,” Ann says.

“Okay, okay, everyone knows how to play, right?” Ryuji says, shuffling the cards. He only does it for a few moments, quickly passing them out to everyone. “Aces high. Jokers are wild.”

Akira takes his hand, watching from the corner of his eye as Akechi takes his with slight hesitation.

“What, afraid you’re gonna lose?” Akira teases.

“Hm?” Akechi says, looking at him. Their eyes don’t exactly meet, Akechi’s quickly moving back down to his cards. “Oh, no.” 

He laughs, too similar to the one Akira had heard so often on TV.

With as many people as they had, the game was a bit long. Off the bat, Akira is handed a full house that ultimately wins him the game. Akechi folded early in, and Akira can’t help but think he probably smiled at his cards a bit and gave himself away.

After that, Makoto and Haru take their leave, saying they had shopping to do while the day was somewhat young. The remaining play another game; this time, Akechi is surprisingly -- or maybe unsurprisingly -- aggressive, moreso than the others besides Akira himself, and it’s much more fun. This time Akira manages to accumulate a three of a kind of aces that bring him this win as well. Yusuke and Futaba bid their farewells at the end.

Ryuji deals out what he says is the last hand, and Akira quickly takes his new cards. This time, they decided to play by having a shared hand in the middle, and after the first few center cards are revealed Akira has little hope for a three win streak. With just the five of them left, the chances of him winning on nothing but a joker and an ace are slim.

But after Ryuji folds and there’s just one card left unflipped -- Akira could easily win if it’s the one of the three remaining aces, as with the joker, it would be three of a kind. Not ideal, but a fair chance with these odds.

“Fold,” Ann sighs, placing down her cards.

“Me too,” Shiho says.

“Either of you quittin’? You better not, it’s the last hand, you gotta stay in.” Ryuji says, leaning forward.

“I think you should stop while you’re ahead, Kurusu-kun,” Akechi says with a coy smile. 

“Fortune favors the bold,” Akira says, laying down his cards face up before Ryuji can even turn over the last one.

It comes up -- as an ace.

Without a word, Akechi puts down his cards. A pair of aces.

“Whoa! Two three of a kinds!” Ryuji says, looking at both their hands. “Uh, what happens then?”

“Wouldn’t he win?” Ann asks, gesturing at Akira. “Since the joker is wild.”

Ryuji scratches his head. “Well, I guess, but wouldn’t it count as an ace since it’s the best he can make?”

Before anyone else can say a word, Ryuji’s phone beeps loudly. “Oh damn, that’s my alarm,” he says, pulling it from his pocket. “I gotta go, I’m goin’ grocery shopping with mom.”

“How sweet,” Ann teases, leaning back.

“Shut it. Just gimme the cards,” he says, hastily grabbing the middle ones. Akira piles his and slides them forward, catching Akechi’s lingering gaze on them before he, too, stacks them and hands them over.

Ryuji says his thanks and heads off. In the quietude, Ann stretches her arms up, and when she lowers them one wraps around Shiho’s shoulder. “We should get going, too.”

“I had a lot of fun,” Shiho says. “Thank you all.”

“I did too,” Akira says, standing up with the rest of them. He and Akechi help fold the blanket, and Ann puts it neatly back into her bag.

“Ahh, you’re so cute,” Ann says as Morgana weaves between her legs, purring loudly. “Can he come stay over? It’s been a while,” Ann says, looking at Akechi with pleading eyes that don’t even compare to Morgana’s.

“If you’d have him, I think he’d appreciate it,” Akechi says. Morgana does a lap around her legs and Shiho’s too, before Ann lowers her tote bag and lets him jump in. 

“We’ll see you guys later,” she says as she and Shiho starting to walk back toward the station. Akira and Akechi wave them off.

“Did you have a good time?” Akechi asks, looking at Akira.

Akira nods. “A lot. Thanks. Did you?”

At this, Akechi gives a short giggle. “Of course. They’re my friends. They’re always fun. And having you just made it better.”

Akira opens his mouth to reply, but it gets lost in the way heat rises to his face. Thankfully, Akechi isn’t looking at him, instead placing the empty cookie container back in his bag.

Akira swallows. “By the way, there was something I wanted to mention,” he says.

“Oh -- I actually had something I wanted to talk to you about, too,” Akechi says, avoiding his eye. “But you first. What is it?”

Akira rubs the back of his neck. “Earlier… when we were on the train. I said I was glad that I was getting this time away from my parents. That’s true, but… what I meant more was…” Akira takes a deep breath. His heart somehow feels about ready to leap from his chest. 

Akechi watches him with intent eyes, a gaze searching and soft.

“I’m just glad that I’ve had this time with you,” Akira says, looking at him evenly. “And… really grateful.”

Akechi stares at him, expression unchanging and unreadable.

Akira’s not too sure if there’s a point to this. 

After all --

Akechi is dead.

Whatever he’s seeing, it’s not real.

He knows that.

Maybe it’s just for himself, because that’s all he can do now; give himself closure. Because Akechi never got to have it.

But could he really even call it closure, when whatever he was looking at wasn’t truly Akechi?

Whatever he was seeing -- there was no way it was Akechi. Logically, he knows this. He knows it. There is just -- no way.

But Akechi’s laughs, his happiness, his daily life like this -- it’s natural, too natural, it’s what’s right, it’s what Akechi deserved -- even after his mistakes, he at least deserved a chance --

Whatever it is, this Akechi smiles at him after a few moments, his gaze almost shyly turning away as he brushes some hair behind his ear.

“You too,” he says quietly. “I know I said this before… but it really does feel like fate.”

There’s a pause, and a sakura petal falls into Akechi’s hand as he lowers it. His eyes fixate on it. “I wish we could come back here,” he says, “but it seems the sakura will be gone sooner than usual, with this weather.”

“And they don’t stay long to begin with,” Akira says, slowly looking from Akechi and up to the tree branches. “They’re so vibrant… I feel like I’ll never be able to look at other things the same way. Like nothing will be as beautiful.”

“Are you always that poetic?” Akechi asks, a light tease in his voice.

“No. I’m not,” Akira says, not meeting his gaze.

After a moment, Akechi says, “I wanted to ask you something.”

Akira looks at him. Now, Akechi’s gaze was on the ground. “What is it?”

The silence is long. The wind slows, and the world itself is quiet.

“Do…” Akechi starts, voice soft. Then, he looks up, meeting Akira’s gaze dead on.

The pause is short before he speaks again, but it’s enough time for Akira to think that, no matter how improbable, there is at least a part of this Akechi that is real, somehow. This moment with Goro Akechi, showing him eyes shining too bright to be false, sakura petals falling around him.

Akechi says, “Do I know you?”

Akira feels his heart stop.

He has no idea what he’s going to say, or what that even means, and he doesn’t have time to think about it -- because after an asphyxiating, poignant second, Akechi drops to his knees, a hand gripping his head as he cries out in pain.

Instantly, Akira is crouching at his side. “What’s wrong?” He asks quickly, a hand on Akechi’s shoulder.

“I… I don’t know,” Akechi says, taking in sharp breaths, “My head…”

Akira gives a cursory look at Akechi’s head, gently but quickly brushing some of his hair around. “You look normal. Does it hurt anywhere else?”

Akechi shakes his head, breathing coming in shuddered.

“Deep breaths,” Akira says. “Come on. Let’s go back to the café.”

He slips an arm under both of Akechi’s, helping him up. 

“I’m sorry,” Akechi says, legs shaking a bit. “I’m sure I’ll be fine in a moment…”

“Even if that’s true, let’s just start going back at least,” Akira says. “You should be laying down.”

“I can walk on my own,” Akechi says, pulling away.

Akira holds him firm. “Just let me help.”

Without warning Akechi pulls back again, with force enough that Akira nearly stumbles. “I don’t need help!”

Akira stares at him. One of Akechi’s hand still holds his head. His other is curled into a fist. 

Akira watches Akechi’s chest rise and fall in a deep, long breath.

“Sorry,” Akechi says eventually.

“It’s okay,” Akira says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Come on. Let’s go together.”

Slowly, Akechi nods. He starts to walk toward the crosswalk, and Akira stays right at his side.

They go in silence. The wind has picked up, now, and what was once a gentle spring breeze is now a chill. 

Once they arrive at the stairway down to the platforms, Akechi says, “Would you mind if we went to my apartment instead? It’s closer.”

“Fine by me,” Akira says, sliding his card at the gate. “As long as you don’t mind me.”

Akechi shakes his head. Akira thinks he sees his mouth open, but even if it was, it’s closed fast enough that Akira can’t be sure.

Thankfully, the train arrives in less than a minute, and the crowd is much thinner. Akira and Akechi take seats side by side. 

“How’s your head feel now?” Akira asks.

“A bit better,” Akechi says, rubbing one of his temples. He sighs deeply, closing his eyes.

“You should rest, if you can,” Akira says.

Akechi barely manages a nod, leaning back into his seat. “We get off in five stops,” he says quietly.

Akira just nods. The dark tunnels of the subway contrasted with the light inside the train make it easy to see the mirror image of him and Akechi in the window opposite them. He watches it intently -- the picture of them together, side by side. Every light movement affirming that it’s not just a projected image, but something real.

Every minute Akechi’s body leans further to the left, and by the time they’re at the second stop his head is resting fully on Akira’s shoulder. Akira shifts his gaze to look down at him -- up close like this, he can see every single long eyelash, every detail and contour of his face. Akechi was always pretty, but seeing his body relaxed and nearly free of all tension, it’s hard not to brush his hair away and --

The train chimes as they come to another stop, but thankfully, Akechi doesn’t wake. Honestly, Akira’s not sure if he’s actually asleep -- being able to sleep in this situation didn’t seem like him.

But he didn’t bother to think about it too much. He simply lets Akechi rest on him, keeping his hand within brushing distance of Akechi’s.

After a bit longer, they arrive at their stop. 

“We’re here,” Akira says softly.

Akechi slowly sits up straight, rubbing one of his eyes. 

“How do you feel?” Akira asks as they stand up.

Akechi looks from Akira’s shoulder, back up to his face. “About the same,” he says after a moment.

Akira follows him off the train. It takes less than a minute before they turn down a sidestreet, and Akechi is opening the door to an apartment building.

Inside, it’s very plain, reminding Akira a bit of the one he lived in with his parents. Akechi leads the way to the elevators, and they get off on the fourth floor, and head down the hall to room 442.

Akechi pushes on the door handle, but it remains firmly closed. He reaches into his bag, and then sighs. “I left my keys at the café.”

“Should we go see if the manager is around or something?” Akira asks.

“It’s fine,” Akechi says, knocking lightly with the back of his hand.

Akira stares, and opens his mouth to ask the obvious question.

Not a moment later, though, the door unlocks with a click and opens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, i hope you liked it! please feel free to talk to me at twitter (@kuremikazuchi) or tumblr (@kiryuujoshua) about this fic or shuake in general or whatever really!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry for the wait on this! instead of boring you with reasons i'm just going to say it's unlikely to be a whole month for the next chapter. thank you for checking back despite an unexpected break and i hope you continue to enjoy this!! the excited comments have meant the world to me!

The apartment door opens soundlessly. In the corner of his eye, Akira sees Akechi’s lips curve into a small smile. 

“I’m home,” Akechi says.

“Oh, welcome home, dear,” says the woman who steps forward and wraps her arms around him. She’s Akechi’s height, with his same shade of brown hair, tied into a low, loose ponytail over her shoulder. “Who’s this?” she asks, stepping back with her hands on his shoulders and looking at Akira.

“Akira Kurusu,” Akira says, eyes moving from the woman, to Akechi, and back again. They have the same shade of red-brown eyes.

“He’s a friend I made the other day,” Akechi says. “He’s just moved here and is transferring to Shujin.”

“Well that’s lovely,” says the woman, giving Akira a warm smile. “Please come in.”

She gestures along as she walks back inside. Akechi follows her, slipping out of his shoes, and Akira does the same as Akechi shuts the door behind them.

“I’m sorry I don’t have any food or drinks ready,” the woman says, heading into the small kitchen off to the side and turning the sink on. “I had no idea you would be coming. I’ll have some tea ready in a few minutes.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know,” Akechi says. “It was just… kind of sudden.”

She looks at him, turning away from her half-full kettle. Immediately she puts it down, walking over to Akechi with hurried steps. “Are you alright, dear? You seem pale…”

“I… wasn’t feeling well at the end of the picnic, so I came here since it’s closer than Leblanc,” Akechi says as the woman places one hand on his forehead and the other on her own.

“You’re a little warm… why don’t you lay down for a bit?”

“If you don’t mind…” Akechi says, his eyes glancing over at Akira.

Akira shakes his head. “Go ahead. Feel better.” 

Akechi nods, before walking down a hall next to the kitchen passthrough.

“Thank you for bringing him here,” the woman says, looking at Akira with a smile. “I’m so sorry I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Sora Akechi, Goro’s mother.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Akira says, giving a small bow.

“You don’t have to be so formal,” she says, smile turning into a little laugh. “Please, go sit down. I’ll be over a minute.”

Akira’s eyes linger on her a moment before he walks past the kitchen and hallway and into what seems to be the living room. Pale blue walls compliment equally pale, nearly white flooring, and largely white decor. Akira sits on a cushion next to the centered low table. At its center was a small flower pot, a lone lotus blooming within.

His eyes drift to the shelves on the nearby wall. Lining them are various small plants, but it is mostly adorned with picture frames -- images of Akechi and his mother, all the way down from to when Akechi was a preteen. In every picture they smile warmly, with Akechi’s mother either holding him or having her hands on his shoulders.

“I always hope Goro isn’t embarrassed by all the pictures I have out of us,” Akechi’s mother says as she walks into the room.

Akira’s eyes linger on the photos. He stares at one in particular, one of an Akechi who was probably about fourteen or fifteen, his gaze not at whomever had been holding at the camera, but instead on his mother, with a smile that stretched his whole face. “I’m sure he’s not,” Akira says, a bit quietly.

“So,” Akechi’s mother says, sitting across from Akira, “how did you and Goro meet?”

Akira looks at her. “I was in Leblanc and he showed up to help out. We… just sort of clicked,” he says. “We ended up hanging out afterwards… I needed a place to stay last night and he let me. And then he invited me out with his other friends today.” Akira pauses, his eyes moving down, meeting his barely-visible reflection against the shined wood of the table. It’s an image that reminds Akira of walking into Leblanc and seeing Akechi sitting there, staring down at the counter. “It’s just easy to be around him, I guess.”

“I know a lot of mothers say this about their children, but Goro really is the sweetest boy.” She smiles fondly, looking up at the pictures. “He always sort of kept to himself at school though, so he didn’t grow up with any friends really. But last year, he made so many… and he seems so much happier. I’m so thankful.” She looks back to Akira. “Even then, he’s never brought any of them over here. He must really trust you.”

Akira’s eyes shift from her and he moves a strand of his bangs.

“But tell me about you,” Akechi’s mother says, leaning in. “Are you transferring to Shujin for your last year?”

“Yeah,” Akira says. “It’s… kind of a complicated family thing, but yeah, I’ll be doing my last year at Shujin.”

“Have you thought about what you’ll do after? Are you going to go to university?”

At first, Akira just shakes his head, slowly, gaze moving a bit down. “No… maybe. I don’t know.”

“It’s so hard, isn’t it? I had no idea what I wanted to do at your age, either,” she says, leaning back with a small sigh. “I was surprised Goro decided so quickly… he did well in school, and he could have gone to almost any university he wanted, but he picked one close by… I hope he doesn’t regret that.”

Akira’s eyes catch the photographs next to them again.

“I’m sure he won’t,” he says, a bit quietly.

There’s a small whistling sound from across the room and Akechi’s mother stands quickly. “Would you check on Goro and bring his tea to him?” She asks as she walks into the kitchen.

“Course,” Akira says, standing after taking a lingering gaze at the pictures. He stands up and meets her at the passthrough to the kitchen.

“I’ll bring yours to the table,” she says, handing a cup to him. “Careful now.”

Akira nods and takes the tea, walking down the hall that led to the other side of the apartment.

“Goro’s room is right on the left there,” she calls as she heads back into the living room.

Akira stops at the specified door. It’s ajar, but he stops anyway. “Hey. I brought some tea your mom made.”

The words feel foreign and weird as they come out of his mouth, but Akira’s attention is brought back fully to Akechi as he says, “Oh, please, come in.”

Akira steps through. Akechi’s shades are closed, presumably to dim the room and help his headache, but it doesn’t do much. The dimming sunlight still filters through, and the light blue color of his walls reflect much more light than they absorb.

Akechi himself sits up in his bed, closing the book in his hands and placing it on the nightstand next to him. His clothes from earlier have been replaced by a plain loose t-shirt and sweatpants, all of which hanging loosely and cutely on his nearly slender frame. 

“Could you put it here?” Akechi asks, gesturing at the nightstand. Akira puts it down, careful to place it away from the book. His eyes wander along the cover of it -- _Night on the Galactic Railroad._

“Feel free to sit,” Akechi says, scooting off to one side of the bed. Akira’s gaze shifts from Akechi, to the empty spot next to him, and Akira slowly sits down.

“You probably shouldn’t be reading if your head is bothering you,” Akira says, a slight tease to his voice.

“I know,” Akechi says, stretching an arm up. Akira notes the way the shirt rides up and provides a sliver of a glimpse of his bare, flat stomach. “I wasn’t going to read long.”

“You can read anytime,” Akira says, leaning back on his hands. “You should just rest.”

Akechi’s small smile fades a bit, and his gaze falls. “Perhaps, but… it’s a bit silly, but that story always makes me feel better when I’m not well.”

Akira leans back forward, trying to meet Akechi’s eyes. “Is there something else wrong?”

Akechi just shakes his head, quickly, gaze fully attuned to the book. “Have -- you ever read this book, Kurusu-kun?

“No, actually.”

Now Akechi meets his eyes, all but pouting. “It’s a classic.”

“I know, I know,” Akira says, lips playing at a small smile. “I know the gist of it.”

Akechi’s gaze moves back to the book. “I always wanted a friendship like the one Giovanni and Campanella have. When I was younger, I admired Campanella the most, being brave enough to do what he did… but now I appreciate Giovanni as much, if not more.” He pauses -- one long enough that Akira is able to closely study the details of Akechi’s expression, not that it tells him much. His eyes are dark, all the light behind his body, and as his gaze casts down, his hair only frames his face all the more. It’s a look that makes Akira want to tilt his head up and see the light sparkle in his eyes again. 

Eventually, Akechi says, slowly, “I think Campanella is lucky to have someone like Giovanni with him during that trip… and I think Giovanni is the one who made Campanella brave.”

Akira just watches him -- and then finally, Akechi meets his gaze, and Akira feels all sorts of words at the tip of his tongue.

Instead of speaking any of them though they leave his mind entirely as Akechi lets out a sharp gasp, one hand flying to his head and grasping it.

Akira is leaning in faster than words can come out of his mouth. “Akechi,” he says, reaching a hand to Akechi’s shoulder, “what’s wro--”

“Don’t touch me!” Akechi says, slapping Akira’s hand off the instant it touches him. 

The feeling left in Akira’s skin stings and burns, but he brings his hand back and says quietly, “Akechi?”

Akechi looks at him, dead in the eye, body frozen as he stops breathing. It’s a look that reminds Akira too much of Akechi’s obscured face behind a cold black mask, a desperation that Akira even still doesn’t understand. But Akira does understand that it rends his own heart, it forces onto him an overwhelming urge to reach out his still stinging hand and pull Akechi close to him.

But he sits there, paralyzed, until after a moment Akechi takes a shuddered breath. “Get out,” he says, voice quiet as he casts his gaze downward and his bangs obscure his face.

“Akechi,” Akira says, scooting just an inch closer, “I --”

 _“Get out!”_ Akechi nearly yells, swinging his arm in Akira’s direction, preemptively shutting down even an attempt to get closer. “Go! Leave me alone!”

Akira bites his tongue hard enough he nearly tastes blood.

But he nods once, and stands up. And he walks out and shuts the door behind him.

When he turns the corridor corner back into the main room, Akechi’s mother is standing and looking at him like she’s about to cry. “Is he okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Akira says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… I guess he just wants to be left alone.”

“I heard,” she says with a soft sigh. “I’m sorry.” She gestures over to the table. “I have your tea here. Why don’t we sit?”

Akira just nods and follows her, taking his seat at the same side of the table as he did last. The tea is hot against his hands and nearly scalding still in his mouth, but he doesn’t feel it much.

“It’s been years since he yelled like that,” she says. Akira looks up at her, but she simply stares down at her tea. After a moment, she meets his gaze. “Can I ask what happened?”

Akira’s eyes fall. “I… guess I’m not really sure. We were just talking, and…” His fingers twitch and clench a bit into his palm. “I think I just pushed him.”

For a moment, Akechi’s mother says nothing. She leans back a little, and gives a short, contemplative sigh.

“Sometimes I feel like Goro pushes people away when he needs them most,” she says eventually. “I said I hadn’t heard him yell like that in a long time… the last was when he was much younger.”

The room, already quiet, seems to become dead silent for all but her voice.

“I’m sure you’re wondering where Goro’s father is. The truth is… he’s in jail,” she says, lowering her voice. “And he’s been there for many years now. He was a rising politician, and I was young then, but that’s not an excuse.”

There’s a pause as she looks up and meets Akira’s gaze. “I want to tell you this because… I don’t think Goro has talked about his past with any of his friends. And I think it’s necessary to really understand him… and I don’t know if this sounds silly, but I feel as though if anyone can understand Goro, it’s you.”

Akira nods once. “Please… go on.”

Again, Akechi’s mother sighs. “I… never married this man. So when Goro was born… it was hard. As soon as he found out I was pregnant, I could never get in touch with him. He wanted to protect his image, I’m sure. I wanted to protect Goro from how harsh reality was… but it’s not easy as a single parent, especially when your child is as precocious as Goro, and especially when… I wasn’t the best mother, at first. I was young, and I wasn’t ready, and I didn’t have anyone to rely on. I… don’t really know how I lived past those first few years. We had to move so much, poor Goro was constantly changing schools… It’s a miracle, really. And once he understood things… Goro would be so, so upset. Upset at his father, upset at the world… And then finally, one day, the truth came out about his father. About all the underhanded deals, about his history with women… his career was finished. It was largely due to one woman’s work who had been involved with him that it came to light… I went to thank her personally. Even if it didn’t solve our problems, she had helped bring justice to the man who made our lives so hard. We ended up becoming close after that -- she was a single parent herself. Her daughter was at that picnic today -- Futaba.”

It’s only when Akira’s elbow bumps into his teacup that he realizes how far he’s leaned in, and he sits back just a bit. “Futaba S -- Isshiki?”

Akechi’s mother nods. “Right. And they’re very close with the man who runs the Leblanc café… who was also involved, to an extent. So that’s how Goro and I got to know him… and they’ve all helped us so much. Things have gotten so much better, but it’s still hard, sometimes. Just last year some new information regarding his father’s crimes came out, stirring up all the old news again… which is why Goro transferred to Shujin for his last year. I think maybe he sees a bit of himself in you, and that’s why he lost his temper… old feelings coming to the surface.” She sighs. “What I’m trying to say is, I hope that didn’t give you a bad impression. He’s a good boy… he’s very sweet. And very lonely, even still, I think.”

A silence comes between them. Akira stares down at his tea, his reflection watching him in turn.

Amidst the quietude, the tick of the clock as a new hour comes is loud.

“I’m going to make some quick dinner,” Akechi’s mother says, a light smile returning to her face. “Do you want to stay the night?”

“If you’d have me,” Akira says.

“Of course. Any friend of Goro’s is more than welcome here. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you so much.”

She gives him a warm smile and walks back to the kitchen, and Akira is left alone in the living room. His eyes wander back to the picture frames -- until his phone starts to vibrate in his pocket.

Hurriedly he takes it out. The icon of an incoming call greets him, from an unknown number. The top of his screen still reads _“No service.”_

“Oh, is that your parents?” Akechi’s mother calls through the passthrough to the kitchen. “Feel free to step out onto the balcony if you want privacy.”

Akira stands up and makes a brisk pace toward the sliding door on the opposite end of the room, making sure it’s shut tight behind him before answering the call.

“Trickster. Can you hear me?” A voice greets him as soon as he presses the phone to his ear.

“Lavenza.”

“Good. My trickster… you need to seek a way out of this world you are in.”

Akira’s grip on his phone tightens. “Did something happen?”

“It has taken me quite some time to get in contact with you,” Lavenza says. “I still don’t know exactly what kind of place you’re in… but I can guess, and if I’m right, it’s not a place you can stay in much longer,” she explains, her voice becoming sporadically muffled.

“What is it, Lavenza?” Akira says, covering his other ear.

“It’s not -- for someone like you, Trickster,” she says, her words cut off part way. “I think -- a place for --”

“I can’t understand you,” Akira says hurriedly.

A static overtakes the call, Lavenza’s voice almost inaudible behind it. “I’m trying to -- soon. … careful, and remember that -- impossible to --”

“I need you to repeat, I can’t understand --” Akira cuts himself off as the call goes dead quiet. “Lavenza?”

The silence is unending. After a moment, Akira looks back at his phone screen -- there was no sign a call had ended, or even began to start. He sighs and slides it back into his pocket.

Leaving this world -- or space, or whatever it was -- was something that hadn’t occurred to him all this time. Or perhaps it had, in passing, and Akira had just chosen to ignore it.

He doesn’t think about why, or he chooses to ignore that, too.

The breeze is cool against him, and cool against the stinging pain still left in his hand. It doesn’t physically hurt anymore, and the pink mark on his skin is barely noticeable. He holds his hand up, and it blends into the orange and pink twingles of the sunset. The colors are warm like Akechi was on his hand, however briefly. Warm like the space between them, sitting in the attic of Leblanc watching DVDs together. Warm like cookies they made together, warm like the way Akechi smiled at him. Warm like their conversations at Leblanc, what felt like ages and ages ago, with Akira making him coffee and talking with ease between them. 

Instinct tells him to go back inside, to peek in Akechi’s bedroom and see that he’s there and he’s okay. To see that a shutter hasn’t closed between them with Akira’s last look at him being his red brown eyes shrouded in emotion he had yet to decipher. And he was already much too late.

But it was also true that Akechi obviously didn’t want him. Akira wouldn’t -- as he had never -- push him. Pushing was a way to break things. To break people. Akechi had already had enough -- his Akechi -- of that. Though this Akechi was different -- he too, deserved happiness.

Akira’s hands tightly grip the balcony railing.

This Akechi, his Akechi. They had to be different people. But they were Akechi at their core. Akira saw that in his smile, in his eyes. In his heart.

Though it was silly to think of the Akechi he as “his.” Heat creeps into Akira’s face.

This Akechi -- was still a relative stranger. Akira really did need to leave. He had learned things, and that was satisfactory. Perhaps that was the reason he was able to come here. After all, it was his Velvet Room that had allowed him access -- his space. A place for the refining of his own soul. By spending the time he did here, perhaps it was a way for him to achieve some closure on what had occupied his mind for the last months.

His next breath is shaky.

It was probably time to find a way out. However that may be.

He shifts his focus back to the sunset -- which had turned, for the better part, to darker colors of twilight. He’s not sure when that happened.

A soft tap brings his attention behind himself, and Akechi’s mother meets his gaze through the glass, motioning at a plate of food on the table.

He slides the door open and the wind blows between them.

“Thank you so much,” he says, shutting it and sitting at the table again.

“You’re more than welcome. I’m going to check on Goro and bring him his serving. I hope you enjoy it,” she says with a smile.

As she leaves, Akira slides his chopsticks into the still steaming rice and vegetables, and takes a bite. It’s a warmth that makes him realize only now that he was cold.

Less than ten minutes later the bowl only has a few singular grains of rice left, and Akira is bringing his bowl to the sink. Akechi’s mother had yet to come out of Akechi’s room, and this time the door was shut tight, not even a slight murmur escaping the room.

As Akira steps back into the living room he feels his blood run cold and his insides twist -- a sudden nausea overtaking him, and he promptly sits on the couch. He had definitely eaten much too fast. 

With a sigh, he lays back, staring at the white ceiling above him. Instantly he feels heavy; his body is hard to move, and his eyelids are like sandbags. Cold continues to wash into his body. It doesn’t keep him from being pulled under the tide of sleep.

* * *

_Knock, knock._

Akechi’s eyes peer through the darkness of his room.

“Hi dear. Can I come in? I have your dinner.”

“Of course,” Akechi says.

His door open and the light from the hallway floods in. “If you’re not going to sleep, you should at least open your curtains,” his mother says with a soft smile. “It’ll be better for your mood.”

Akechi just nods, not looking her in the eye. He was still sitting on his bed -- he hadn’t moved since Akira had left. He had simply sat here, staring at his lap, for the last five minutes.

It felt like five minutes. And yet in that time the sun had gone down and his mother had made dinner.

After shutting the door, she turns on the lamp on his bedside table, placing the bowl of food next to it.

She sits next to him. “How are you feeling?”

“About the same,” Akechi says truthfully. His head had ceased to hurt, but that malady had only been replaced by another.

His mother places the back of her hand to his forehead. “You don’t feel quite as warm.” She runs her touch a bit up his head, and a shiver runs down his body and he flinches.

Pulling her hand back, she furrows her brow. “What’s wrong?”

Finally, Akechi meets her gaze. His mother’s eyes were similar to his own, perhaps a shade brighter, a shade more vibrant. Full of life. That’s how he had always thought of them. Hadn’t he? They gave him a sense of calm, they grounded him. Hadn’t they always?

Now his insides crawl as he looks into his mother’s eyes.

“I think my sickness is just making me feel weird,” Akechi says finally. 

“I think you probably feel guilty, too,” she says softly.

Akechi’s fingers dig into his thighs.

“I’m sure he understands,” his mother says. “He’s not upset at you. He’s still staying over.”

Akechi feels something. Not something he can name. Something like his heart leaping and his stomach twisting at once. It’s pleasant and unpleasant. Familiar in the way that it feels nostalgic and unfamiliar in the way he can’t remember how it is.

“I want you to get a lot of rest. Try to sleep after you eat, okay?” His mother says, standing up slowly. 

Akechi only nods. He knows the words are supposed to comfort him -- they had so many times in the past -- hadn’t they? -- but her voice seems off, different, out of place, it’s not what he wanted or needed.

But that didn’t make sense. This was his mother.

He looks up at her as she reaches the door. 

“Call me if you need anything,” she says with the gentlest of smiles. A smile that makes him look away.

“Goro?”

The response stops in his throat, and he forces it out. “Yes, mother?”

“I love you.”

His body feels cold and hot at the same time. He wants to hear it again and he wants her to leave before he has to reply.

“I love you too.”

She smiles at him again and shuts the door.

Immediately he feels the strange urge to chase her, to open the door and see her again, to see her really there. To see her and Kurusu.

He bites his tongue hard.

Sleep. This would surely be over in the morning.

He takes the warm bowl in his hands, pulling it onto his lap and staring at it. It reminds him of the picnic that was only hours ago but felt longer. The cookies he made with Kurusu had turned out so well. He seemed naturally inclined to cooking. He seemed naturally suited in Leblanc. Sojiro would like him. He was at ease even around people he didn’t know well. He already seemed like he belonged with Akechi’s friends.

The image of Kurusu sitting amongst the cherry blossoms, eyes constantly shifting to Akechi, sends a near shiver down Akechi’s body. Not like the one from moments ago, but one that makes his heart jump and his face warm.

Yet when Kurusu had touched him, both times today, Akechi felt like his body had seared and burned.

He tightly grips his bowl.

Overstimulation, surely. Meeting someone new, being sick. Nothing a bowl of his mother’s homemade food and a good sleep wouldn’t solve. It always had.

Hadn’t it?

He tries to remember the last time he felt like this, the last time his mother had made him feel better. It doesn’t immediately come to his mind.

Any sort of appetite is nonexistent. He finds himself standing and walking to the door. Not because he wanted to see Kurusu. But just to apologize. 

He opens it and steps into a hallway that seems glaringly bright. At the other end, the door to his mother’s bedroom is cracked, and he sees her laying on her bed with a book.

Quietly, he walks down the corridor. It gets darker as he goes, the only light being a dim lamp in the corner of the living room. It’s dark enough that he doesn’t see Kurusu at first, barely noticing his dark silhouette on the couch.

His chest rises and falls in the steady rhythm of sleep. Obviously, Akechi has no reason to linger, but he finds himself unmoving.

In the dim light, it’s nearly impossible to see the individual curls and locks of Kurusu’s hair, but they still twist around his face in a cute way. They contrast starkly against his pale skin. Too pale, really.

Slowly, slowly, Akechi reaches out and brushes the back of his fingers to Kurusu’s face. Even through the feather-lightness of it, Kurusu is seemingly cold to the touch.

Akechi walks over to the chair on the other side of the room, picking up the folded blanket that lays there. After quietly unfurling it, he drapes it over Kurusu in a way that can only be called delicate.

Tomorrow. He’d apologize tomorrow.

Even having resolved that, Akechi stands still in the quietude of the living room, his eyes fixated on Kurusu. Kurusu, a truly ordinary boy, whom he had the off-chance of meeting. Whom he had the off-chance of spending all this time together. Whom he had the off-chance of feeling at ease around. 

The unease that had plagued Akechi’s body since Kurusu left his room was gone, replaced now by his heart jumping in his chest.

Akechi crouches next to the couch, putting himself at eye level to Kurusu. His black hair, his figure itself blend into the darkness. As if he belongs there. And yet his face stands out, something that would catch someone’s attention without doubt. Like a phantom. Something to follow in the darkness.

Akechi reaches a hand slowly toward one of Kurusu’s.

But Kurusu shifts slightly and Akechi immediately stands.

He gives him a lingering look, and then quickly heads back to his room.

The door shuts behind him with the a soft click. Akechi sits on his bed with a sigh, and takes his bowl of food into his hands. His hunger has yet to appear, but he brings a bite of food to his mouth and swallows it quickly anyway.

It’s warm. But it doesn’t taste like much.

His eyes drift to the bedside table. The characters that comprise the title of _Night on the Galactic Railroad_ shimmer with a silver gloss that reflect the light. It seems blindingly glaring.

He sets the bowl down back on the table with enough force that the book shifts and falls to the ground. He doesn’t bother to pick it up before he turns off the light and pulls his covers over his head.

He stares in the empty darkness of his blanket for a minute. And then another, and another. His eyes are heavy but sleep refuses to take him. His mind reels with images of his friends, of his mother, and mostly of Kurusu. He sees Kurusu’s face in the crowded streets. Nothing special about him, but Akechi feels rooted anyway when they lock gazes. He sees Kurusu wearing the apron of Leblanc, like he had been when they made cookies. It suits him too well. Kurusu instinctively knowing where things were behind the counter. Like he already worked there. Kurusu blending in with his friends as if he’d known them forever.

Kurusu sitting in a Shujin classroom for his next year. Wearing the Shujin uniform. It would look natural on him. He’d wear the blazer buttoned up. Akechi can see it perfectly. He can see Kurusu with a bag slung over his shoulder, running a hand through his ever-messy hair. Maybe Sojiro would take him as a part-timer so he could have some money. Akira would work well at Leblanc. Akechi can see that perfectly, too. And maybe he’d come in as a customer. Getting served coffee by Kurusu with a natural ease of conversation between them. Finally, a place Akechi could relax.

His bed feels cold. He thinks, distantly, about pulling another cover over him, but his body is weak. He falls further into this cold and this cage of darkness.

It feels like water. Like drowning. A cold barricade keeping him from the world. A steel shutter. One that separates him from Kurusu. He can see Kurusu’s last look at him, eyes wild with an emotion Akechi couldn’t place at all. One that simultaneously tore Akechi’s heart in two and made it whole.

He lays in the cold, though the feeling of falling still overtakes him. All is quiet as he moves into a world of sleep.

He can see Kurusu’s quiet promise even through the barricade. He doesn’t want to sleep. He doesn’t want to go. But he’s stuck where he is and it’s what he _has_ to do, it’s where he belongs, where he’s put himself, but every part of him aches to --

His blood runs ice cold and Akechi’s eyes snap open as he jolts upright.

His breathing comes in ragged and heavy, lungs burning for oxygen like they hadn’t had life in months.

His eyes shift around his room. His room, which seems somehow unfamiliar. But it’s his room. Isn’t it? 

It’s enough to tell himself it’s a nightmare, even if he feels like he hadn’t slept at all. Reaching under his pillow, he takes out his phone, cracked screen greeting him. March 21, 5:59AM.

He pulls his curtain back a sliver. The purple sky of a sun that has yet to truly rise greets him.

It’s deadly quiet. The darkness of his room seems eerie, and when he shuts his curtain again it feels like it’s encroaching.

He knows Kurusu -- and his mother -- are surely still asleep. But the darkness seems closer and his heart beats faster.

Swinging his legs off his bed, his feet collide into _Night on the Galactic Railroad,_ staring at him from the floor. His insides twist.

Wasting no time, he leaves it there, hurrying to his door and opening it. The hall is almost as dark as his room.

He only realizes as he’s already walking toward the living room that he didn’t even bother to check if his mother’s bedroom door was still open a crack. And by the time he’s at the living room, his stomach already feels like lead. Because Kurusu isn’t there.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm very excited to write the rest of this! it's been years since i did a multichapter fic and i'm very happy about this and hope you enjoy it! i'll try to update as fast as i can! thank you so much for reading!
> 
> yell about shuake with me at twitter (@kuremikazuchi) or tumblr (@kiryuujoshua)


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